


Written in the Water

by vicaniyun



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, M/M, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2018-10-17 20:52:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 232,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10602015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vicaniyun/pseuds/vicaniyun
Summary: Despite having no artistic talent, student Kim Junmyeon signs up for an introduction to painting class at his university. He has a lot to learn, not only about the ins and outs of art, but also about why the grumpy and caffeine-addicted art professor seems to have taken a keen interest in him.





	1. Built Environment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we get started, hi! Some of you may recognize me from AFF. I've decided to start crossposting this fic here that I've been working on for quite a while! This fic hasn't been completed yet, so I'll be crossposting in spurts to give new readers an opportunity of catching up before the next update. Anyway, enjoy. :-)
> 
> _[ BUILT ENVIRONMENT ]  
>  human-made surroundings that provide the setting for human activity_

Kim Junmyeon was not the average incoming freshman.

His age did not match his rank, for starters. Despite rooming with another freshman within the four walls of their dorm, Junmyeon was older. Even though the majority of freshmen were around the age of eighteen, Junmyeon had already turned twenty.

It was a little odd to some, perhaps, but Junmyeon found it amusing that the majority of people in his classes were going to be younger than him, considering he had to start with the basics, just like everyone else.

A lot of people that he knew decided to attend university right after their high school graduation. Junmyeon, on the other hand, didn’t. The gap years between school attendance were instead spent at work and tending to family. For Junmyeon, that had been more important than hurrying back onto school grounds.

And, third, unlike a large percentage of the human population, Junmyeon absolutely adored Mondays.

“Close th’ curtains,” a voice slurred from across the room. Junmyeon, in the process of tugging open the pastel blue curtains hanging above the window of their bedroom, paused to glance in the voice’s direction. There was an absent grin on Junmyeon’s face as his roommate squirmed inside of his nest of sheets, yanking his blanket above his head. “’S in my face.”

Well, that was true enough. Junmyeon smiled a little wider, ignoring the fact that bright golden sunlight was now gushing into the room, spilling itself over his roommate’s bed and face.

“Well, it’s time to get up, so there’s no point in closing them,” Junmyeon said with a happy laugh, stepping away from the window. He padded across the room to where his roommate’s bed. Smile mischievous, Junmyeon heaved himself onto his tiptoes before leaping onto the fellow freshman’s bed. “Come on, Sehun! Get up!”

Buried beneath his blankets, Sehun let out an unhappy grunt as he kicked and squirmed, attempting to roll away from Junmyeon and his loud voice and high energy. He was slurring as he spoke, still half-asleep. “Go ‘way, ‘m tired!”

“It’s the first day of class. You can’t be tired yet,” Junmyeon argued with a giggle, reaching out with two small hands and letting his fingers wrap around the hem of the blanket. There was a brief moment of tug-of-war as both boys attempted to have the advantage, but Junmyeon won. And, victorious, he let out an excited yell as he forcefully yanked down the blanket, revealing the grumpy face of his roommate. “Now come on. You still need to get ready and you said you would go with me to get breakfast with the others before class!”

“Are you goin’ to be like this _every_ morning?” Sehun whined, stretching one arm out in annoyance. The palm of his hand met Junmyeon’s cheek, and with a grunt, he attempted to push the other out of his personal space bubble. “Scoot. ‘M up.”

Junmyeon just grinned big and wide in response, despite the fact the other was squishing his face in the process. Obediently, he scooted away, before clambering off the bed. Sehun just yawned in response as he forced himself to sit up, hair tousled and eyes heavy.

And as the younger boy shuffled away to go get ready, Junmyeon eagerly plopped back down on his bed, staring out of their bedroom window. He had yanked the curtains aside and opened the blinds, leaving their room to be bathed gold and granting Junmyeon with a wonderful view of the street below.

He couldn’t quit smiling. Perhaps this was only the beginning, but Junmyeon was awfully excited and optimistic. Things had not been easy, but he was finally here. He could finally begin focusing on his own future and his own dreams. This was a new beginning that overlapped the rocky and rough past two years. And Junmyeon was aiming to make these new months and years the best that he possibly could.

Sehun returned after a few minutes, still yawning, but otherwise already put together. Junmyeon was practically bouncing on his bed as he waited for his roommate to get dressed, nothing but happy and excited energy despite the fact it was just past eight in the morning.

“Do you ever hold still?” Sehun mumbled, tugging a shirt over his head.

“I can’t right now. I’m too excited,” Junmyeon said, swinging his legs absently over the edge of his bed. Sehun just gave him a disbelieving look of _‘it’s too early for this_ ’, but Junmyeon ignored it. “Just trust me on this one. I’ve been waiting to do this kinda stuff for forever, so I’m really excited.”

“I know. You told us,” Sehun said with a sigh as he grabbed his backpack off his desk chair. “Well, come on then. Let’s go eat.”

Not needing any further motivation, Junmyeon practically leapt off his bed. Taking only a moment to grab his shoes, Junmyeon was the first one to make it out of the door to their dorm room, nearly tumbling down on the way. Sehun merely shook his head and shuffled after him, their door closing with a secure _click._

* * *

He and Sehun had pretty similar schedules during the week. Both of their classes started at 9 a.m. on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. They had different courses, of course, but the timeframe that the two shared was quite alike. Sehun would finish his classes about an hour before Junmyeon, but Junmyeon did not mind one bit.

With it presently being only 8:20 in the morning, campus was rather quiet. A lot of students were still asleep; Junmyeon knew a lot of kids that lived on the same floor as him and Sehun didn’t start their classes until late morning or early afternoon.

Junmyeon had, along with the other freshman, moved into his dorm the previous Saturday. That, of course, was the first time he met Sehun. The two boys spent their day unpacking and decorating their shared bedroom and trying to get to know each other a little better, considering they were going to be living together for several months.

The next day, that Sunday, the other students on campus began to move in. That had also been the day that he and Sehun began to try to interact some more with others that lived on their floor within the dorm. Junmyeon had yet to really click with anyone in the building to stabilize a complete friendship, and it seemed like Sehun was a bit in the same boat.

However, there was a boy a few doors down that Sehun had known since he was in high school, and, oddly enough, the other was also a dance major. Sehun had introduced Junmyeon to the boy, and even though it had only been about two days since they had met, it felt like Junmyeon had known Jongin for a lot longer. Jongin had a warm personality that was quite welcoming; Junmyeon attributed part of the coziness between them to that.

Jongin’s roommate, Zitao, was a little older, though still younger than Junmyeon. Junmyeon still didn’t know Zitao very well yet, but there was still plenty of time for the four of them to get to know each other better. This was only the first day of the semester, after all.

“Wow, your schedule is boring,” Zitao said bluntly, presently seated at a table in the dining hall with Junmyeon, Sehun, and Jongin all squeezed in on their own chairs. He was peering over at Sehun’s schedule that he had scribbled down on a scrap piece of paper.

“That’s what happens when nearly all you’re taking is gen ed classes,” Sehun replied, still sounding half-asleep. With furrowed brows he tugged the piece of paper away, tucking it back into the safety of his pocket. “Jongin is taking quite a few of them. Junmyeon too.”

“Like what?” Jongin asked curiously, he and Zitao glancing up from their food to give Junmyeon an interested look.

“Um,” Junmyeon started intelligently, having to pause for a moment to fish out his own schedule, jotted down on a piece of paper, just like Sehun had done. The last thing Junmyeon wanted was to be late or miss his class because he couldn’t remember the room number. “Let’s see… Mine are mostly introduction level classes too. Science, history… I’m taking a painting class, too. That’s actually what I’m most excited about.”

“Introduction to painting?” Zitao asked, arching one dark eyebrow. “Are you an art major?”

“No. To be honest, I’m still undecided on my major,” Junmyeon said sheepishly, absently rubbing the back of his neck. “I just want to learn how to paint.”

“Who are you taking the class with?” Jongin asked, head vaguely tilting to one side, strands of dark hair falling into his eyes. “There’s a ton of professors who teach the basic art classes around here, since this is a larger school…”

“Ah, I don’t really know how to say his name, so bear with me, because I’m probably going to mess it up,” Junmyeon said with a laugh as he worked on cramming his note back into his pocket. “Yi…fan? Is that right?”

Sehun and Jongin didn’t seem to find a problem with Junmyeon’s response. Zitao, however, paused entirely to scowl at Junmyeon from across the table, dark eyebrows knitting together.

“Wu Yifan?” Zitao asked. When Junmyeon nodded in confirmation, Zitao’s expression only grew darker. “You willingly signed up for a class with him?”

“Well… I mean, the others were full, and I noticed his class still had quite a few seats open, so why not?” Junmyeon offered in reply, though his words didn’t seem to help his case much. Zitao still looked unimpressed. “Why?”

“Did you not read any online reviews about his classes before you signed up?” Zitao asked dryly.

Junmyeon blushed, caught off guard by the sudden inquiry. “I didn’t even think of that. I’ll keep that in mind for next semester’s classes, I guess. But… Are they not good reviews?”

“There’s a website a lot of the kids here use to look up reviews and such on the professors located here on campus. And, well, Yifan – he goes by Kris – he has one of the lowest scores out of the entire teaching body,” Zitao explained, his face sour as he went to take a sip of his drink. “I’ve read a lot of stuff about him. Heard some things from some people in our dorm, too. He’s insanely strict. And according to the reviews, Kris won’t hesitate with telling you what’s on his mind, no matter how badly it will hurt you. Making kids cry has happened quite a few times.”

“He’s made people cry?” Jongin echoed, frowning in concern as he glanced over at his roommate.

“If the reviews are true, then he’s made quite a few people cry. He won’t go easy on you, basic level class or not. He’s an ass,” Zitao said simply, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “Which, in my opinion, if you don’t have any patience, you don’t need to be a teacher, let alone teaching an introductory level class where kids aren’t going to know much, if anything.”

Junmyeon swallowed nervously. He was trying to remain optimistic. Maybe all of that was just a lot of gossip. He could only hope so. “Are you sure about all that?”

“I mean, so many people have complained, I’m sure at least some of it must be true.” Zitao shrugged his shoulders in response as he slumped back in his chair. “Then again, maybe he’s just in a foul mood because he knows that he’s getting old.”

Junmyeon frowned down at his plate, an odd feeling in his stomach. The painting class was going to be his first lecture of the day, three times a week. It was the class he was most excited about. It was about something he had wanted to learn for ages now.

He could only hope that things would work out.

* * *

After wandering in circles for about ten minutes, Junmyeon had to finally cave and ask for directions. The art building, as it turned out, was a little bit of a challenge to find. Its structure was practically hidden, red bricks looking oddly lonely in the shadow of taller and bigger buildings and shady trees.

There were kids beginning to wander campus more freely now, and Junmyeon found several more students in the hallways as he headed for his class. Based on the note he had written to himself, and the fact the room started with a _one_ , Junmyeon could only assume his class was located on the first floor.

After continuous loops and turns around the first floor, losing himself in the various doors and glass cabinets showing off the artistic creations of his fellow students, Junmyeon was left with only one other option. And that was to take the small set of steps located at the end of the eastern hallway. It was the only place he hadn’t been yet, and so far, he still hadn’t managed to find his class.

Junmyeon crept down the three steps, his sneakers silent against the cold floor. And almost instantly, a smile lit up Junmyeon’s face, because there on the wall, was a little plaque with what exactly what he wanted to see: a simplistic _1210_ in black text.

The large wooden door leading into the room was open wide and Junmyeon hesitantly peeked his head around the corner to see what was within. Initially, Junmyeon had decided that down three random steps was an odd place for a classroom, especially considering that it made the area nearly isolated from all the others. But upon peering in, Junmyeon could understand why the classroom was far apart from the others. It provided more space.

The room was enormous compared to the others that Junmyeon had seen on tours. The floor was the same, colored that soft off-gray shade. It was littered with countless tables and chairs, the opposite wall filled with nothing but large windows. Junmyeon couldn’t help but stare at the back of the room, gazing past the few other students that had slithered in early. A sink, countless cabinets, a long expanse of countertop. There was a large table set up near the corner, along with a small cart with metal racks, which Junmyeon could only assume was used as storage for paintings that needed to dry.

Junmyeon wandered inside then, absently clutching at the straps of his backpack, and feeling oddly nervous. It was his first class, after all. The room wasn’t very populated with other students at the moment, and majority of them were either playing on their phones or quietly talking to each other.

There was a seat that caught Junmyeon’s eye, set up near the front of the room. However, the seat right next to it was occupied by a brunet male, busy typing away on his phone. Junmyeon wanted to make sure no one else had claimed his desired spot, but would he be a disturbance if he said anything?

Shaking those thoughts from his head, Junmyeon wandered closer until he was standing right beside the chair he wanted. The other male didn’t seem to notice him, still staring down at his phone with a sleepy look on his face.

Junmyeon cleared his throat to make his presence known, and it was only then that the other male at last glanced up at him.

“Is anyone sitting here?” Junmyeon asked, his voice hesitant and unsure.

Thankfully, though the male’s face was cloudy with a confused expression for a moment, it at last warmed into a friendly smile. “Not that I know of.”

Junmyeon laughed as he began to shed his backpack, sinking down into the chair next to the other. “Hopefully not. I’d rather not steal someone’s seat and fight over it on the first day.”

“I think you’ll be alright,” the stranger replied with that same smile, one cheek marked by a dimple. “I’m Yixing by the way.”

“Junmyeon,” the freshman answered, white teeth still on display as he slung his bag over the back of his chair. “Nice to meet you. Are you an art major?”

“Dance major,” Yixing said, and Junmyeon mentally chalked down a note to ask Sehun whether or not he had heard of Yixing later. After all, those with the same major usually wound up sharing a lot of core subjects farther down the road. “I’m still missing my credit for an art elective outside of my major, so that’s why I’m here. I’m not really the best at painting, and I know Kris is really strict, but I didn’t really have anything else I could take.”

“That’s kind of why I’m here too. I’m still undecided for my major, so I’m trying to knock out some electives. A lot of things were already filled up when I registered and a lot of things I can’t take anyway because I’m a freshman,” Junmyeon explained, watching as Yixing nodded absently to show that he was paying attention. Junmyeon couldn’t help but furrow his brow a little in concern, thinking back to Zitao’s words. A second opinion on the matter couldn’t hurt, right? “How strict are we talking, though? Do you think he’ll go easy on me if I mention that I’ve never painted anything before in my entire life?”

“To be honest, I doubt it. I know this is an introductory class, but… Well… I’m sure your roommate or someone around campus has already told you that Kris is a bit coarse,” Yixing replied, his voice dropping in volume, as if afraid he was going to be overheard. “If that’s even a good enough term I can use here. I’m sure you’ve heard already that people say not to take anything he teaches. People have told me he’s tolerable during the first week because he loads up on caffeine and doesn’t have anything to yell about yet, but once you start your projects, his patience is dry as a desert. And I’ve heard he’s… Well… Extremely blunt, to put it simply. I don’t think he’s one of those people that like to sugarcoat things, even if it means tearing you down a couple of pegs in the process…”

“My roommate and his friends did mention I’m probably crazy for signing up for this,” Junmyeon mumbled uncertainly. What on earth was he getting himself into this time? “But I’ve always wanted to learn how to paint, so I thought maybe a class would be a good place to start. Maybe he won’t be that bad.”

“I’m hoping so too, but you know where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” Yixing said quietly. The class was slowly filling up now that it was starting in just a moment. Several more students shuffled into the room, sinking down into the assortment of chairs littering the area in random patterns. Junmyeon couldn’t help but notice that the area near the front of the room where he and Yixing were sitting was practically abandoned. It made him uneasy. “But hey, we’re in this together, I guess. We’ll get through it. It’s just one semester.”

Yixing fell silent then, and Junmyeon almost didn’t understand why, until he noticed an _enormous_ figure crossing through the doorway. And, to his surprise, the man paused for one moment to roughly close the door behind himself, old bolts on the wood rattling weakly in response.

The man didn’t utter a single word, and Junmyeon only then realized how _quiet_ it was in the room. Even the air itself felt suddenly thick and uncomfortable with a strange tension. Junmyeon shifted uneasily in his seat as the man walked across the room, heading to the front without so much as a ‘good morning’.

Stepping around the single barstool at the front of the room, he wandered closer to the large board set up upon the wall. And it was only then that Junmyeon received the opportunity of hearing the stranger’s voice.

“I’m sure you all know my name already, but I’m going to tell you anyway,” the man said, just loud enough for the others to hear. He was holding a thermos in his left hand, and his right wandered up to the chalkboard to wrap around one of the little white sticks. “And I’m sure the majority of you have already heard from others on campus that I do not appreciate any nicknames other than this one.”

Junmyeon shifted his weight anxiously in his seat as he watched the stick of chalk drag across the board. The otherwise silent room was filled with little scuffles as he wrote something down, and Junmyeon couldn’t see yet, his view blocked by the rather large and wide expanse of the man’s back.

At last, the writing stopped, and the stranger sank back down onto his barstool to let everyone get a view of the white letters tattooed onto the board as he merely went back to sipping his drink in silence.

_KRIS WU, PROFESSOR_

This was the art professor he had heard so much about? Junmyeon was not quite sure what he had been expecting, but this wasn’t exactly it. Even from across the room as the man sat on a barstool, Junmyeon could tell that he was huge. Tall, broad-shouldered, long legs, and even his hands seemed a little too large, the thermos looking scaled down within his fingers. His voice was deep and oddly smooth. There were a few piercings that marked his earlobes, his dark hair short and slicked back, the ring that somehow managed to fit around his middle finger clinking against his thermos as he adjusted his grip.

“I’m sure the majority of you either already know, or noticed when you registered for your classes, that my name is Yifan. Do not call me that. Kris is fine. Mister Wu or professor Wu are also acceptable choices,” Yifan said then, breaking the stillness of the classroom. “But that’s it. Your choices are one of those three.”

Yifan leaned back on his barstool then, dark eyes doing a quick scan around the room. When the man’s gaze fell upon him, their eyes locking, Junmyeon instantly smiled in return, doing his absolute best to appear friendly. Yifan’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, as if puzzled, but it was hard for Junmyeon to tell what he was thinking. The man’s facial expression didn’t change in the slightest, remaining in that unamused scowl as he proceeded to look away.

“No familiar faces. Very well. Let’s start from the beginning then. I have three rules in this classroom,” Yifan continued, hands absently resting on his thighs, the thermos still gripped in one of them. “One: do not be late to my class. I don’t care what your excuse is. If you’re going to be late, do not bother coming. Considering this is the first day, I’m being lenient. However, starting on Wednesday, the door will be locked upon the start of lecture. Do not bother showing up if you’re going to be late; there won’t be a way for you to get in the room regardless.

“Two: you can eat and drink in here. I am aware of the fact that the art rooms forbid food and drink. However, considering that I have to have my coffee,” Yifan continued, and Junmyeon’s eyes drifted to the thermos in his hand, “it would be hypocritical of me to tell you that you can’t bring anything into the room. Just don’t bring anything that will make a mess if you eat it. And if you do happen to spill something or make a mess, I expect for you to clean it up. And if you spill something on your project, that is on you. If you have to start over, so be it. Also, gum does not apply. There is no gum allowed in this room because I’ve long grown tired of you kids thinking it’s cute or appropriate to stick it on random objects.”

Yifan paused for a moment to take a long swig of his coffee.

“Finally, number three: I do not, under any circumstances, accept late work. Again, I do not care about your excuses. I do not care about what happened, as to why you didn’t have it in on time. I will not accept it. If your deadline is five p.m. on a Friday, it had better be in my hands by five p.m. that Friday. Otherwise? You will be taking the zero,” Yifan said, voice calm. “Considering that you all are enrolled in a university to become adults, I’m going to treat you like adults. And the real, adult world does not care about your excuses. Any questions?”

Dead silence was the only reply.

“In that case, let’s get started,” Yifan murmured.

He was attempting to stand up now, and Junmyeon couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to be struggling a little. He was trying not to show it, but Junmyeon noticed just how tense his body was as he tried to haul himself up, his eyebrows furrowing together. Even when he at last managed to heave himself onto his own two feet, his body still seemed stiff. What was that all about?

“We’ll go over the syllabus. I’ll outline some of the projects you’re going to be working on. Also, you will be graded on more than just your paintings. There will be two portfolio reviews this semester. We’ll talk more about that here in a while.” Yifan had crossed the room now, fiddling with the projector. It was slowly flickering to life, its light spilling across the white backdrop that Yifan had pulled down in front of the old chalkboard. “You all will probably get out of here much earlier today than you will normally. This is typically a three hour class, but since projects will not officially begin until Wednesday – bring your supplies – there isn’t much I can do to fill three hours. This will be the only time you will be getting out of here early, so don’t get used to it.”

There were some collective grumbles from the back of the room at that last comment.

“Right. How surprising.” Junmyeon couldn’t help but notice how Yifan seemed even more annoyed at this point upon hearing that reaction, his brow drawing inward even more than a few moments previous. “Now, considering this class is on a Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule…”

As Yifan began to read off the screen about his office hours, Junmyeon leaned over towards Yixing, speaking as softly as he could out of the corner of his mouth. “Does he seem upset to you?”

To his confusion, out of nowhere, there was suddenly a red dot shining on the front of his shirt. Junmyeon stared at it for a moment, before glancing up in an attempt of finding out where it was coming from. To his embarrassment, he realized that Yifan had stopped talking entirely. Instead, he had turned his attention onto Junmyeon, pointing the clicker used to change slides directly at the student. And, with the help of one of the buttons on the little remote, he was shining the laser right onto Junmyeon’s chest.

“You,” Yifan said then, and Junmyeon suddenly felt so horribly tiny as the professor stared him down with unamused eyes. Junmyeon had only one brief second to take notice of the man’s dark irises and the beginnings of dark circles beginning to crop up beneath the man’s eyes, his focus easily stolen away as Yifan clicked the laser pointer at him several times. The little red dot on his chest was flashing on and off like a target painted on the fabric. “What’s your name?”

“Uh,” Junmyeon started intelligently, his throat suddenly feeling tight as he realized that the man was calling him out in front of the entire class. “J-Junmyeon.”

“Junmyeon, do not talk while I’m talking,” Yifan continued, voice cold. There were some snickers from the back of the room, and Junmyeon vaguely felt his face growing warm with embarrassment and shame. “Understood?”

Completely red-faced, Junmyeon quickly ducked his head and nodded merely once as he wrung his hands together tightly in his lap. “Yes, sir. Sorry.”

“Hm.” Yifan’s thumb moved away from the little button on his clicker then, and the red dot on Junmyeon’s chest faded from sight. Yifan merely turned his attention back to the projection screen then. “Now, as I was saying…”

It took a moment to recollect himself, and even when he did, his cheeks still felt hot. Junmyeon at last picked his head up and glanced over to find Yixing flashing him a small and apologetic smile, as if to try to make him feel better. Junmyeon didn’t even attempt to smile back, still too embarrassed, and merely turned his gaze onto the board in silence as he shifted his weight uncomfortably in his seat.

Were all professors like this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 5 July 2016
> 
> [[AFF](http://www.asianfanfics.com/profile/view/1028599)] [[Twitter](https://twitter.com/vicaniyun)] [[Ask.fm](https://ask.fm/vicaniyun)] [[CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/vicaniyun)]  
> 


	2. Concentric

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ CONCENTRIC ]_  
>  two or more things having a common center  
> 

Yifan was cleaning the chalkboard with a dusty black eraser.

The classroom had grown quiet. The students had practically rushed out of the class once Yifan gave his dismissal. At the moment, aside from Junmyeon, the only people left were Yixing and another student that sat in the back of the class. And, of course, Yifan was still lingering as well, wiping the board off with slow but heavy movements.

Junmyeon couldn’t help but stare as he waited for Yixing to finish packing his bag. The two had agreed to go to the campus bookstore together for last minute supplies. And in the meantime, Junmyeon found himself watching lines of chalk brush away into the depth of the chalkboard in powdery smears.

Junmyeon’s voice was soft but sounded horrendously loud in the nearly silent classroom. “Mister Wu?”

Instantly, Yifan stopped what he was doing, hand falling still. He was still clutching the eraser in one of his large hands and letting it rest against the board as he looked over his shoulder. Just like before, there was that trademark scowl on his face. “What?”

“I, um…” Junmyeon started, his voice wavering for a brief second under Yifan’s cold and expectant gaze. Junmyeon was fidgeting with the straps of his backpack. “I just wanted to apologize for earlier. The whole talking while you were talking thing. It was rude of me, and I’m sorry.”

Yifan just stared at him for a long time in total silence, eyes calculating. At last, he simply turned away, facing the chalkboard. Junmyeon was left staring at his back as Yifan’s voice came out, dry as always. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“It won’t! It won’t,” Junmyeon babbled quickly, releasing his grip on his backpack straps to awkwardly wave his hands in front of himself, despite the fact Yifan wasn’t even looking in his direction. “I promise.”

The only thing Junmyeon received in response was the sound of the eraser wiping over the board.

“Junmyeon, are you coming?” Yixing called then. Snapping to attention, Junmyeon realized that everyone was gone. There was no one left but him and Yifan. Even Yixing had shuffled out of the room, standing in the doorway of the class as he waited for Junmyeon.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry,” Junmyeon replied, spinning around on his heel to rush towards the door to meet up with his new friend. His backpack was bouncing with every step and Junmyeon paused for only one second in the doorway, swiveling on his heel to look back at Yifan. “See you on Wednesday, mister Wu!”

Yifan glanced over at the door then, his face clouded over with a puzzled expression, but he was a little too late. Junmyeon and Yixing were already gone. Alone with his thoughts, Yifan merely shook his head and glanced back at the chalkboard as he set down the eraser.

* * *

“I told you he can be blunt,” Yixing said, face contorted with confusion as he stared at the large shelf before him, “I just feel a bit bad since you were trying to talk to _me_ when you got chewed out.”

“Don’t feel bad! It’s not your fault. Next time I know to be quiet,” Junmyeon said, that same smile on his face as he stood next to Yixing. The two of them had walked across campus together to the university bookstore, chatting the entire way, and were now nestled in the art section, hunting for last minute supplies.

“You’re awfully optimistic,” Yixing commented quietly, reaching out to pluck a package of paintbrushes from their display, studying them closely. “Are you always this positive?”

“I try to be,” Junmyeon admitted, shrugging his shoulders loosely, letting his eyes roam over the art supplies. The smile that was nearly always plastered across his lips had faded. “It isn’t always easy, but I try really hard to look on the bright side and be in a good mood and whatnot. Positive thinking has always been a big thing taught in my family.”

“Really?” Yixing asked, glancing over at Junmyeon then.

“Yeah.” Junmyeon took a moment to swipe the wine-colored bangs out of his eyes, before reaching out to grab one of the bottles of paint off of a shelf. He sighed a bit as he stared down at it thoughtfully. “I mean, honestly, it’s a good mindset to have. Life is just full of too many bad experiences already for you to be negative about everything.”

Yixing was quiet in response to that. He could tell Junmyeon was referencing something more than just his attitude. He was hinting about something that had happened in his life, and Yixing easily noticed it. However, he didn’t want to push it any further. If Junmyeon wanted him to know, then Junmyeon would tell him. Regardless, he and Junmyeon had just met only a few hours ago. They were not nearly close enough friends for Yixing to feel comfortable digging into Junmyeon’s private life like that and asking too many questions. And he was sure Junmyeon wouldn’t like it either.

The momentary silence between them was rather awkward. It was a bit obvious that neither of them knew what to say from there. Yixing was still fiddling with the supplies on display as Junmyeon absently read the label of the bottle of paint he was holding.

“So since mister Wu mentioned we’re starting with acrylic paint because it’s easier, does that mean he’s gonna switch us over to harder paints later?” Junmyeon asked then, breaking the long pause as he glanced over at Yixing.

“Probably. I know oil is harder than acrylic… Though aside from those two, I don’t really know what else he has up his sleeve. If the way people say he’s a sadist is true, I wouldn’t be surprised if we had to do a watercolor painting and drag it to class on the day it’s raining,” Yixing commented, his lips twisting sideways. He stole a glance at Junmyeon then. “You know, you’re the only one I’ve heard so far call him ‘mister Wu’. You can call him Kris, you know. Everyone else on campus does.”

Junmyeon wrinkled his nose. “I couldn’t. It feels too personal…”

“But he said you could,” Yixing pressed, lips parting in an amused smile.

“Yeah, but _still_ ,” Junmyeon whined loudly. A few students on the nearby aisles turned for a moment to give him an odd look, but Junmyeon didn’t care. “It feels weird. He’s my professor.”

Yixing laughed. “I guess you’ll just be the odd one out, then.”

“I kinda already am,” Junmyeon admitted, his voice sheepish as he tossed the bottle of acrylic paint into his tiny handbasket that he and Yixing were lugging around to share. It landed noisily on top of Yixing’s package of paintbrushes. “I mean, I took a hiatus from school and now I’m a twenty year old freshman. That’s already a little abnormal.”

Yixing’s head whipped sideways then to give him an odd look. “What month is your birthday?”

“May?” Junmyeon offered, though it sounded more like a question than a response. Yixing was just staring at him and Junmyeon cleared his throat uncomfortably. “What?”

“You’re older than me,” Yixing deadpanned, blinking several times in disbelief. “I never would have thought that.”

“I wasn’t expecting that either,” Junmyeon admitted, before letting out a loud snort of amusement as he turned his attention back onto the shelves of art supplies. “Guess I’m just full of surprises.”

“Seems like it,” Yixing agreed quietly, yawning halfway through the sentence. “What’s next? You being some secret art prodigy?”

“Definitely not,” Junmyeon replied, his head shaking side to side in objection. “I’ve never even held a paintbrush before. I highly doubt my art will be anything to brag about. I’ll probably be lucky to even pass this class if what you and everyone else are saying about mister Wu is accurate.”

“Maybe you’ll get lucky?” Yixing offered, trying to give the other student some hope. “I mean, maybe he’ll feel sorry for you and give you pity points once he sees that you’re trying? And me too, considering that I’ve painted a few times before and I’ll admit that I’m not very good at it.”

“At least you’re honest,” Junmyeon said in a sing-song voice, eyes glimmering in amusement. “But I hope you’re right. I can’t afford to fail a class, especially in my very first semester.”

Things between them fell into another temporary silence. It was, thankfully, now less awkward than it had been the previous time. Junmyeon was the one to break it after a moment, glancing over at Yixing in the process.

“By the way, I’m not sure if he’ll be in your classes at all since he’s a freshman,” Junmyeon started, “but my roommate, Sehun, is also a dance major. His friend Jongin is too.”

The two of them were wandering through the store now, having picked up what art supplies they needed, and were trying to kill a bit of time before their next class. Since they had gotten out of Yifan’s class extremely early, there was plenty of time to waste.

Yixing hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I only have two dance classes this semester. One later today after lunchtime, and one on a Tuesday and Thursday schedule. What day is his class?”

“I don’t remember, to be honest,” Junmyeon confessed. “I wanna say Tuesdays and Thursdays, but don’t quote me on that.”

“What does he look like?” Yixing continued, his voice genuinely curious.

“I’m not really the best at describing people. He’s really tall though,” Junmyeon replied. “If you want, you could sit with us at dinner tonight? I could introduce you. If you wanted to, I mean! It’s okay if you’re busy.”

“That’d be nice, actually. The past few semesters I usually just go eat with my roommate Jongdae,” Yixing told him. “Which is fine, but expanding your circle isn’t bad either. I’ll have to introduce you to him one of these days. But, my warning to you now is that he’s a bit loud. He’s nice! But just…loud. So just be prepared.”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” Junmyeon replied, shooting his friend a warm smile.

“You’re awfully confident, aren’t you?” Yixing asked, pausing in thumbing through a set of stationery to give him an odd look.

Junmyeon’s smile faltered for a moment as he let his gaze fall. “I try my best.”

Yixing didn’t say anything to that. The only thing Junmyeon received in response was an odd look before Yixing went back to digging through the various items up for sale.

* * *

Junmyeon crawled out of bed bright and early on Tuesday morning as Sehun snored quietly in the bed across the room. Even though Junmyeon’s first lecture wasn’t until eleven, he had always been an early bird. And with it only two days into the new semester, Junmyeon was trying to fixate himself onto a schedule. It would make things easier down the road, he thought.

The world was quiet that morning as Junmyeon crept out of his dorm room and went for a jog. For now, he decided that Tuesdays, Thursdays, and one day out of the weekend would be his exercise days. Getting out of the soon-to-be flow of nothing but going to class and going to eat and going to his dorm would probably grow tiring. Not to mention, well, he knew a large sum of people gained a lot of weight during their first year of university. Junmyeon didn’t really want to put himself into that boat.

It was just before nine in the morning, and in between class hours, so campus was quite empty. Junmyeon had the sidewalks nearly all to himself. And as he mentally spread out a map of campus and began to jog, Junmyeon daydreamed. His black and neon blue running shoes hit the sidewalk with soft thuds as he drifted back to hours long gone.

He thought about his time in the store with Yixing and the two of them wandering around campus together, talking about their lives, their hobbies, their dreams.

_“So what do you want to do after graduation?” Yixing asked, voice full of curiosity. “You know, like a career? What do you want to be?”_

_Junmyeon was quiet in response as he kicked at a stray pebble with his sneaker. He at last sighed as he shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”_

_“You don’t have any ideas?” Yixing offered hesitantly, seeming unsure of how to continue the conversation._

_“Not really. I haven’t thought about it too much,” Junmyeon answered, face puzzled and voice thoughtful as he stared down at his shoes. Their dark fabric clashed against the white of the sidewalk. “I still don’t even know what I want to major in, let alone what I want to do with the rest of my life.”_

_“Well, what did you do before you got into university?” Yixing asked. “I mean, you took some time off, right? Did you do anything during your break that you really liked?”_

_“Not really. I spent my years off helping my family and working,” Junmyeon replied, keeping himself occupied by walking on his tiptoes, childishly trying to avoid treading on the cracks in the strips of cement. “It was hard. I’m an only child and my parents divorced when I was in high school, so… Yeah. Really, really hard. I worked in an office building part time. Boring, really. I just worked in the back room and filed papers and stuff like that. I had a second job, another part-time one, that I worked in the evenings. Just working as a cashier down at the grocery store by my house. I hated them both, but I needed the money, and it gave me something to do to keep my mind occupied so I couldn’t think too much.”_

_Yixing paused for a long moment, absorbing that information. There were so many unanswered questions, but he didn’t want to drill for answers. “Well… What do you like to do?”_

_For a moment, Junmyeon stopped walking. Yixing instantly came to a halt beside him, giving him a confused glance, clearly wondering what was wrong. Junmyeon didn’t answer for a long moment, his face clouding over as he stared down at the sidewalk._

_“I…” Junmyeon wasn’t smiling anymore and his voice was hardly above a whisper. What did he like? “I don’t…really know.”_

Running down the sidewalk at nearly full speed, Junmyeon roughly shook his head to get those thoughts out of his brain.

He tried to focus on his run instead. Leaving his dorm and headed east at the moment, he decided to take the path he was on until it ended, which was about half a mile. It would spit him out near the business building. He could stop there and simply turn around and come back, but that was a little too easy in his eyes. If he crossed the street and looped around a few extra blocks, he could go past the art building and a few other areas he had only briefly touched base with so far. It would be a good change in scenery compared to the main strip of sidewalk he saw numerous times a day.

So he ran. Junmyeon let his thoughts drift to dinner the previous night. He remembered Yixing squeezing a chair up to one edge of their table. He thought about how their group all chattered to one another, talking about their first day of classes. He recalled Zitao’s whining about one of his professors as Sehun and Jongin complained that they were tired. He remembered Yixing talking with the others, trying to get to know them all better since it was their very first meeting.

And he could easily recall how they all began to grill him about his art class.

_“So how did it go?” Sehun asked, reaching over and stealing one of Junmyeon’s fries._

_“I… Well,” Junmyeon started, cheeks flushing a bit with embarrassment. “I got called out in front of everyone for talking while he was talking.”_

_“A lot of professors don’t like that,” Zitao pointed out. “And with it being Kris, it’s really not a surprise that he said something.”_

_“You’re okay though, right?” Jongin asked then, his eyebrows knitting together._

_“I’m fine. It was just embarrassing, that’s all,” Junmyeon murmured in response. “Other than that, it was a little uneventful. He let us out early since we don’t start painting until Wednesday. We just went over the syllabus and stuff like that. Yixing and I just went and hung out for a bit after class until my next lecture.”_

_“I guess you’ll get to see his moodiness come out first thing on Wednesday then,” Zitao murmured._

_“He was already in a bit of a bad mood,” Yixing pointed out, his voice gentle as he stirred his food around on his plate in thought. “I mean, I guess I can see where people are coming from when they say he’s impatient and painfully blunt. I can tell he is. But he really just seems to be extremely grumpy for some reason.”_

_“He looked like something was bothering him,” Junmyeon said, and the remaining four boys at the table paused to give him an odd look._

_“What do you mean?” Sehun asked slowly, not seeming to understand. Judging by the puzzled expressions on everyone else’s faces, they didn’t get it either._

_“I don’t know exactly, but… He just seemed out of it, I guess. Tired maybe? He has dark circles,” Junmyeon continued, lips twisting to one side in thought. “I dunno. I wonder if there’s something wrong with him. He looked like he was struggling to stand up during lecture too. And… Well… When he said we’re never going to get out of class early, the whole room started grumbling about it. He seemed really mad when that happened.”_

_“So what you’re getting at… Is that he’s constantly in a bad mood because he’s tired and his motor skills aren’t the best?” Jongin spoke up then, clearly struggling to follow Junmyeon’s thought process. “And I mean… I can’t really blame him. I’d be mad too if the entire class started complaining after I said something.”_

_“Okay, but, first of all,” Sehun said then in between chewing, “why did you notice all of that to begin with? It’s like you’re studying him.”_

_“It’s just habit, I guess,” Junmyeon replied, cheeks unconsciously flushing a little. “And not to brag, but I’m pretty good at reading people.”_

_The others merely gave him a mixture of perplexed and odd looks._

Junmyeon had crossed the street. The art building was a few blocks ahead. He could see the tops of the trees that sheltered it swaying in the light morning breeze. He was panting by now, sweat running in messy beads down his forehead and following the slope of his neck. He absently glanced down to check his watch. He still had plenty of time before class. He could get back to the dorm and have a shower and grab something to eat before heading to the history building.

Now that he thought about, there were so many places on campus that served food. Junmyeon had passed by quite a few little chains on his jog, mainly cafés and other small shops. He knew near the outskirts of campus, the bigger branches popped up, accompanied by dozens of fast food and takeout joints.

The art building was hidden behind a row of larger structures, and one included a small café lingering on the street corner. Junmyeon paid it no mind at first, merely about to jog past it so that he could head back to his dorm, until he noticed someone exiting the shop. And instantly, Junmyeon came to a halt. That tall figure with a grumpy face stuck out like a sore thumb.

And yet, Junmyeon grinned as he stuck his arm straight up into the air. Hand above his head, he started waving back and forth as he yelled as loud as he could. “Good morning, mister Wu!”

The man was clearly startled. He had just barely made it out the front door when Junmyeon screamed at him, and it nearly sent all of the items in his arms tumbling right out of his grip. He barely managed to hang onto everything, and, scowling, trekked down the front steps in one piece. Junmyeon was all smiles as he bounded closer to greet the other.

Not bothering to wait for Yifan to say anything, Junmyeon, once he was close enough to speak to the other at a normal volume, greeted the man with a little bow before straightening himself up, that same smile plastered on his face. “Sorry I scared you. Do you have a lecture this morning?”

“Printmaking starts at nine-thirty.” Yifan’s frown didn’t budge an inch.

Junmyeon took a brief moment to look down. The same thermos was in Yifan’s right hand and there was a plastic bag dangling from the grip of his left. Junmyeon could only assume it contained whatever goodies Yifan had just purchased from the café.

And then he noticed that Yifan had a black motorcycle helmet shoved under his left arm.

“You drive a motorcycle?” Junmyeon asked then, blinking in surprise. He flicked his gaze upward to meet Yifan’s eyes. “That’s so cool! I always thought it’d be neat to drive one, but with my luck, I’d flip over and bust my head open.”

Yifan just stared at him. “You won’t bust your head open if you’re wearing your helmet.”

“That’s true,” Junmyeon murmured. “I’m sure I’d find another way to get hurt though. Break a bone or skin my arms on the ground or something.”

“You’re being overdramatic,” Yifan commented, face unmoving and voice unchanging as he simply raised his thermos and took a sip of his coffee. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“My first class on Tuesdays and Thursdays isn’t until eleven,” Junmyeon replied, still breathing a little heavy from his run. He smiled. “Though between you and me, I’m not really that excited. History isn’t my thing. I’m really excited about Wednesday though! It’ll be my first time painting.”

Yifan’s thick eyebrows tightened up over his eyes as he proceeded to scowl even further. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I dunno what to major in yet, but I’ve always wanted to learn how, so I thought a class would be a good place to start and learn how to do it. Good practice, you know? Can’t make any progress unless you practice,” Junmyeon offered, rocking back and forth on the balls of his heels.

“I’m not going easy on you,” Yifan told him, voice dry. “If that’s what you’re expecting from me, you’re going to get your feelings hurt.”

“No! No, no, I wasn’t expecting that at all,” Junmyeon said quickly, awkwardly waving his hands in front of himself. His smile was sheepish as he stared up at the much taller man. “I mean, okay, there was a _tinyyy_ piece of me that was hoping you would, but… I wasn’t expecting anything. Promise.”

Yifan was silent for a long moment as he merely stared at Junmyeon, eyes calculating. He was drinking his coffee again and Junmyeon absently stared at the ring on his middle finger as he waited or the man to respond.

Yifan’s voice was quiet and dry as always. “You’re awfully optimistic for someone who has no experience. You do realize optimism can’t protect you from criticism, yes?”

“It can help soften the blow though,” Junmyeon offered, eyes crinkling up as he merely smiled in response. “I can’t stop anyone from critiquing me, but I can try to be optimistic about it. You know, think about the good things I did and how I can do better next time.”

Yifan’s lips pursed together in a thin little line. Junmyeon could see a slight dimple in his forehead from how deeply he was scowling.

“You’re a first year,” Yifan commented bluntly then, and it came out as more of a statement than a question. Junmyeon blinked in surprise at the sudden inquiry. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes sir,” Junmyeon responded almost instantly, his face puzzled as he tilted his head slightly to one side, clearly confused.

“I can tell,” Yifan said simply. “You know something about people like you?”

“What?” Junmyeon asked slowly, his voice uncertain and face clouding over as the nerves took over his insides, unsure of what the professor was about to say to him.

“Everyone starts out like you. A dreamer. Head in the clouds. Full of optimism and sunshine. But you know what?” Yifan asked rhetorically, not bothering to wait for Junmyeon to reply. “Very few people graduate and stay like you. They change. Dreams die. You get dragged down to earth by your ankles. The realism settles in. And I want you to remember that.”

“With all due respect, sir, I already know it won’t happen to me,” Junmyeon said then, slowly beginning to frown himself now. “I’ve already had a dose of the real world since I started university late. And so far, so good. I’m still me.”

Yifan’s right eyebrow inched higher onto his forehead. It almost sounded as if he was challenging the other. “And you’re positive about this?”

“Yes,” Junmyeon continued, brow creasing as he unconsciously clenched his hands. “Optimism has gotten me this far, and I’m happy with who I am. I don’t want or need to change, especially if it meant letting go of what’s important to me.”

Yifan actually _chuckled_ then, his facial expression hardly changing in the slightest as he did so. But Junmyeon heard the sound coming out of the back of his throat and Yifan merely raised his thermos. “We’ll see about that.”

What was that all about? Junmyeon frowned a little deeper as the professor suddenly took a few steps forward, easily brushing past Junmyeon as he began to continue down the sidewalk, in the direction of the art building. The plastic bag dangling from his hand swayed with his footsteps and the sleek black material of his motorcycle helmet glittered under the soft morning sunlight.

“See you tomorrow, Junmyeon,” Yifan called then, not bothering to turn around to look at the student as he did so. Junmyeon was left staring at his back as Yifan merely walked away and left him standing there on the middle of the sidewalk, all alone.

Junmyeon watched him go until Yifan’s body vanished around the corner, unseen from his eyes as he headed for the art building.

The conversation left an odd and unpleasant feeling in Junmyeon’s stomach. With a frown of his own plastered across his face, Junmyeon couldn’t shake the sensation that had come over him, and even as he tried to lose himself in his daydreams on his jog back to his dorm, he simply couldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 14 July 2016


	3. Hue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ HUE ]_  
>  a particular gradation of color; a shade or tint  
> 

One thing Junmyeon found great pride in was his appearance. Despite the fact that tiring days were closing in on him and even though he was a freshman, Junmyeon tried his hardest to look good. He hadn’t yet lost himself to the exhausted days of oversized t-shirts and comfy pairs of jeans.

Instead, Junmyeon was the boy who wandered campus with his hair meticulously combed and styled, the mop of red clashing against the sea of brown and black fibers that belonged to the other kids on campus. Junmyeon was the one who slaved over his outfits, laying his clothes out the night before and making sure they matched in every way possible. It was not yet cold enough to lug out his collection of boots and other heavy shoes. It left him wandering campus wearing the same pair of converse sneakers, colored a plain black and white that managed to match his stylish outfits.

And of course it matched his backpack, white with dozens of black stars. The copious of amounts of keychains hanging from the zippers that jingled when he walked was just an added bonus.

A sense of fashion and looking well put together was something Junmyeon valued highly. So when he sat in class on Wednesday, waiting for lecture to start, he couldn’t help but grimace a little when Yifan walked through the door. And Junmyeon wasn’t the only one. Nearly everyone in the entire class was staring as Yifan closed the door behind himself, taking a brief second to lock it, before making his way to the front of the room.

“What the hell is he wearing?” someone from few seats behind Junmyeon whispered.

And even though Junmyeon had come to Yifan’s defense several times since the start of the semester, he couldn’t help but mentally agree with that statement. Yifan’s outfit today was nothing like the ones that Junmyeon had seen over the past two days. For example, on the first day of class, Yifan had walked in wearing a white button-up and a pair of black pants. Yesterday, when Yifan had been leaving the café, he was matching perfectly, and his look was completed with a blazer. But today…

Yifan was silent as always as he made his way across the classroom, not bothering to give his class a ‘good morning’, or even a glance of acknowledgment.

Too distracted by his professor’s outfit, Junmyeon hardly realized that Yifan was lugging around a large tote bag in one hand, thermos in the other. He made his way to the front of the classroom and began to unpack his belongings on the small desk that was always unoccupied. And in the meantime, Junmyeon, along with everyone else, stared long and hard.

He couldn’t believe that Yifan was wearing a shirt with a dragon on it. And that was what Junmyeon stared at from the time Yifan began to shuffle across the room to the time he began to unpack his things, laying out various items in a pile. Could professors even wear t-shirts to lecture? Junmyeon didn’t know, but Yifan’s black top that was adorned with a giant red dragon on it, well, it certainly _looked_ like a t-shirt. A t-shirt with an odd white powder lingering on the rounded neckline where Yifan’s collarbones were hiding beneath the fabric. He couldn’t even see how long the sleeves were, because for whatever reason, Yifan had pulled another article of clothing on atop of it. And Junmyeon honestly could not fathom why Yifan had picked a red and black flannel shirt, of all things, to wear open and unbuttoned over his already odd clothing selection.

Aside from the ugly patch stitched on near the thigh, Yifan’s pants were about the most normal thing on him. And yet, their dark fabric clashed greatly against the fluorescent lime green of Yifan’s sneakers.

Junmyeon wrinkled his nose. Had Yifan gotten dressed in the dark, or what? He highly doubted that the man was colorblind… Though judging by that outfit, he seemed like he was.

“Since this is your first project, we’re going to start with something simple,” Yifan said then, his voice calm, snapping Junmyeon out of his daydreams. It wasn’t enough for him to quit stealing glances at Yifan’s shoes, however.

The professor’s normally grumpy face was blank as always as he continued to unpack his bag. Junmyeon watched him lug out an assortment of items, arranging them on the little table.

“We’re staying away from objects like glass or things that have a shine to them for now. Like I said, first project, so we’re starting out simple,” Yifan commented as he casually set down a small green cup onto the tabletop. “Before we get into any abstract concepts or into projects that require you to actually use your imagination, we’re going to begin with some still life work. You will have something to use as a reference…which is why I set up this display.”

Yifan took a step back, hands on his hips.

“This will be your point of reference for this project. The display will remain up and won’t be taken down until the assignment is due. You are allowed to photograph it for your own reference, if you so desire. Pictures can be quite helpful. After all, they help me figure out how to grade you, based on whether or not you actually tried to paint what you can see here, or if you just slapped it all together and called it a day.”

Yifan sank down onto his barstool, and Junmyeon was staring at his tacky green shoes the entire time he was talking.

“I don’t care _what_ you decide to paint. Paint everything you can see here? Paint just a few things? Take a picture of one section you want to do? Great, fine, that’s not important.” Yifan paused to take a sip of his coffee. “But, I do expect whatever you choose to paint to actually look like the display. You’re going to be graded on the painting itself. Use of space, blending, color selection, etcetera. You can refer you to your syllabus for a breakdown of how many points you can earn in each section of grading criteria for this project. Since this is your first painting of the semester, you will be graded a little more loosely than you will be in the future. This assignment will give me the opportunity to see where the baseline of your skills is.”

Yifan leaned over to set his thermos down on the small table beside him.

“And once I figure out where your baseline is, grading you in the future will become an easier task. I expect improvement over the course of this semester in your abilities to paint. I will be able to tell if you threw something together last minute and I will be able to tell if you did not try. I understand that everyone has a different art style and I will keep that in mind, but art style is not an excuse for poor quality work,” Yifan continued, stretching his long legs out before him. “Now. This is a three hour long lecture, as you all know. This assignment will be due at the beginning of class next Friday. Four days of class time to work on this should be _plenty_ of time. Any questions?”

As usual, the only response Yifan received was silence.

“How surprising. Now, since this is an introductory course, we’ll cover some basic ground quickly before I let you all loose.” With a grunt and clenched hands, Yifan managed to heave himself to his feet after a brief moment of struggling. Nursing his coffee in one hand, he wandered over to the projector. “Also, you lot in the back may want to move closer to the front. I know you think you’re cool by sitting in the rear – you aren’t, by the way – but you can’t see details from that far away. And one thing I’m highly picky about when I grade is details.”

Junmyeon swallowed nervously at that, fidgeting with the paintbrush he was holding in his fingers.

* * *

Yifan had gone over some bare basics before letting everyone begin on their project. Junmyeon listened attentively as Yifan talked about the information on the slides. Since their painting was to be done in acrylics, that was all Yifan discussed for now. He rattled off various types of paintbrushes that were normally used with acrylics, their names, their advantages, and how to properly clean them. He talked about the characteristics of acrylic paint, the easiest way to layer them on a canvas, their drying time, their texture. And Junmyeon ate up every single word, trying to hammer it into his brain the best he could.

And then, half an hour later, they were officially starting their first project. And Junmyeon had no _clue_ as to what he was doing. Listening to someone talk about art and actually trying to make art himself were two totally different things.

Yifan had mentioned that as long as you worked, he did not care as to what you did otherwise. It led to the classroom being a quiet murmur of sounds. Some of the students were talking quietly amongst each other as they began to paint. Other kids, including Yixing, lugged out their headphones and listened to music while they worked. Yifan seemed to be that type too, Junmyeon noticed absently, as he realized he could hear Yifan quietly playing music from the computer sitting on his desk near the corner of the room.

Yifan had mentioned that if anyone needed help or wanted his advice, he was there. You just needed to ask, and he would come around. But of course, with it being the very start of the project, no one was speaking up. So Yifan was just like everyone else, setting up his easel and quietly painting something while his music played softly from the corner of the room. Junmyeon had noticed that once Yifan sat down, he kept squinting at his canvas until he at last caved and pulled a small glasses case out of his pocket. And now, his professor looked even stranger, his black glasses contrasting greatly against his odd outfit, but at least he had stopped squinting.

Junmyeon, always different from his peers, wasn’t doing a single thing other than trying to work. Oh, but he was struggling so _hard_ already, even with it only being the first day. The paintbrush felt out of place in his fingers, and if he was being truthful, he hadn’t even known how to properly hold one until he looked it up online the night before. He had watched some clips about the basics of painting as well, mainly so that he wouldn’t embarrass himself. He had seen how to hold a brush, how to do painting strokes, the works, but… Doing it himself was so much harder than the people on his computer made it seem.

Junmyeon glanced around his canvas to take another look at the display. He had already snapped a picture of it, just in case he needed to work on it outside of class. And by how slow he was working, he was sure he was going to meet Yifan’s deadline by the skin of his teeth. The assortment of random objects looked like a bunch of things Yifan had grabbed out of his house, from a green cup to a small bowl with an orange sitting inside of it, accompanied by an empty box, a handful of fake flowers, and a ton of other things. Yifan had clumped some objects together and some were stacked on top of each other to ensure everything would not be the same height.

He had decided to paint just a specific section, rather than the whole display. Less objects was probably better for a newbie like him; it wouldn’t take nearly as long compared to if he had decided to paint the entire thing. But even then, working on painting the little green cup, Junmyeon was having a hard time. So far all he had managed to paint was a little blob to fill up some of the white on his canvas. He was trying his best to morph it into a cup, but there was just one problem: he couldn’t seem to match the color at all.

A forest green, the shade of the cup did not match the color of the paint that came out of Junmyeon’s bottle. He was altering the color the best he could on his palette, but it never seemed to match. When he added black, he apparently added way too much, because his green instantly darkened to a sickening shade that did not even come close. If he threw in some white to try to lighten it back up, its hue altered completely. If he added only a little bit of black, the green was still too light. It was awfully frustrating. This had to have been his eight time trying it.

Junmyeon squirted a small bit of black onto his palette, tongue peeking out between his lips hopefully as he did so. Eagerly, he mixed the black and green together with his brush, before turning his attention onto his canvas. It had to be it this time! He had such a good feeling about it, a grin on his lips as he made a slow, steady stroke on the canvas, and—

Too dark.

Junmyeon’s smile faded instantly, annoyance creeping into his eyes now. With a huff of sheer irritation, Junmyeon blindly swung his arm out to wash his paintbrush out in his little cup of water, sitting on the small table that came with his chair, just like every other person in the room. However, due to the fact he wasn’t paying enough attention, rinsing out his brush didn’t exactly go as planned.

Feeling something shift, Junmyeon’s head whipped sideways, but he was too late. With a squawk, Junmyeon leapt to his feet, and meager seconds later, his cup hit the floor. The entire class instantly stopped what they were doing to give him an odd look. Junmyeon was frozen for a long moment, staring down at his mess. His muddy paint water had spilled out _everywhere_ , pooling at his feet in an ugly puddle, empty plastic cup having rolled a few feet away.

Junmyeon felt his face burn as he heard a few kids in the back of the room bust out laughing at him as they realized what he had done, and the shame and embarrassment was enough to get Junmyeon moving again.

“Oh no, no, _no_ ,” Junmyeon babbled to himself, his converse sneakers squeaking against the tiled floor as he desperately rushed toward the back of the room, where the sink was. He grabbed a generous handful of paper towels and came barreling back, squatting above the mess he had made and mopping it up with quick movements. His face was red as he balled up one handful of now dripping wet paper towels, tossing it carelessly aside as he grabbed another fistful and resumed his work of cleaning up after himself.

Too preoccupied, Junmyeon never noticed the way Yifan paused in his work, looking over the rim of his glasses to stare at him with an unreadable expression.

* * *

The first day of painting had been miserable for Junmyeon. He was a magnet for bad luck and clumsiness. He had spilled his paint water. He had gotten paint on his pants. The sleeve of his shirt had accidentally dipped into his paint, and Junmyeon didn’t know it; he figured it out once he began dripping paint all over the floor and his own clothes. Needless to say, by the time lecture was over, Junmyeon just wanted to go back to his dorm. He didn’t even feel like going to his other classes, too frustrated and humiliated. Painting was so much harder than he had ever expected it to be.

Cleanup was ten minutes before lecture ended. A large portion of the class quickly washed out their cups and brushes and stored their paintings on the drying rack before barreling out of the room. Yixing was one of them, giving Junmyeon an apology as he hurried out, mentioning he had somewhere to be.

Alone, Junmyeon did not rush. He had a small gap between this lecture and his next, so there was no point in hurrying. While the rest of the class scrambled around, Junmyeon knew he wouldn’t be able to get to the sinks at the back of the room anyway, so he merely continued to work on his painting until the rush died down. Only then did Junmyeon decide to start cleaning up, sighing to himself as he began to chuck his paints into the small plastic bag he had brought with him. He paused, however, as he took the bottle of green paint into his hand. It was nearly half empty already; Junmyeon had wasted a ridiculous amount of paint today, trying to get the perfect shade, and he had not been successful in the slightest.

He glanced across the room then. Yifan was the only other person left in the classroom with him. The man was removing his own canvas from its easel then, his small table a mess of paint bottles, handles of paintbrushes standing tall from a dirty cup of water.

Junmyeon cleared his throat, tightly gripping the bottle of paint in his hands. “Mister Wu?”

Yifan paused at that, glancing in Junmyeon’s direction. He had taken his glasses off, black frames and clear lenses tossed carelessly onto the small table beside his chair. He was holding his wet canvas in his hands. “What?”

“Um…” Junmyeon started, almost hesitantly. He couldn’t help but think about the words everyone had been telling him about this professor, about his ruthlessness, his harsh words, his eagerness to snap and yell at his students. It made him a little nervous to ask the man a question, because he didn’t know what to expect. But he had to try. “Do you happen to have a moment to help me? I was… _am_ …having a really hard time with this color…”

“You need to be more specific,” Yifan replied then, and Junmyeon smiled a little, realizing instantly that Yifan was offering to help, but he needed more details.

“Well, see… I’m trying to paint the cup you set out on the display, the green one. The green paint I bought isn’t the right shade, and I can’t get it to match,” Junmyeon explained, fiddling with the bottle as Yifan stared at him, face blank as always. “So I added some black, but—“

“No,” Yifan interrupted, and Junmyeon blinked in surprise at that.

“No?” he echoed, voice hesitant.

“The shade of green that the cup has is more of an earthy tone. You’d have a better chance of getting closer to the actual shade if you tried a different color to darken your paint,” Yifan explained, “something like brown, for example. And I’m sure you’ve realized by now that you don’t need very much paint to darken what you have. Too much will completely trash it.”

“I never thought about using brown…” Junmyeon murmured thoughtfully, feeling awfully stupid all of a sudden. He blushed slightly. “I should have thought of that.”

“If you didn’t know, then you didn’t know,” Yifan said simply, his facial expression not changing in the slightest as he turned away, swiping his bottles of paint into the tote bag he had brought to class. “Try it and I’m sure you’ll see a difference.”

“I’ll try it first thing on Friday. Thank you,” Junmyeon replied, shooting the professor a glance as he then gathered his brushes so that he could go wash them out. “By the way, mister Wu, I… I’m sorry about earlier. The whole spilling paint water all over your floor incident…”

“You cleaned it up, so I honestly don’t care,” Yifan told him bluntly, not bothering to even look at Junmyeon as he spoke.

Junmyeon’s expression dimmed then as he looked down at the brushes and cup of water in his hand. “Everyone else cared, though. They thought it was funny, so…”

“And?” Yifan asked rhetorically then, and Junmyeon paused as Yifan suddenly turned around to look at him. “Why should you care what they think of you?”

“Because they _laughed_?” Junmyeon offered, his voice coming out as more of a question than an answer as he threw the last of his belongings into his bag. He shrugged on his backpack and grabbed his painting. “And it was embarrassing?”

“Again: why should you care? What they think of you isn’t going to make a difference in your life, so who cares?” Yifan told him, and Junmyeon was quiet, unsure of what to say. “You’re too young to be worried about this kind of crap. You won’t ever speak to these people again once you’re out of here, so why bother worrying? Tell them to fuck off and call it a day.”

“That’s…” Junmyeon blinked in surprise, pausing in placing his painting on the drying rack with all the others. He hadn’t been expecting such a thing to come out of Yifan’s mouth at all. “That’s a colorful way of putting it.”

“Regardless, I’m sure it would get your point across if you actually bothered to toughen up and tell them that,” Yifan continued, slinging his bag onto his shoulder. “You’ve told me you already had a dose of the real world. I thought someone who has already taken the bull by the horns would have thicker skin.”

Junmyeon opened his mouth to object, but after a moment of mulling it over, he simply closed his mouth again. Maybe he was a little more sensitive than he thought he was…

“See you Friday, Junmyeon,” Yifan said then, having collected his things, and turned away as he began to make a beeline for the door, still wet canvas in one hand and easel shoved under his arm. Something seemed like it was missing…

Junmyeon’s gaze wandered for a moment, before he realized Yifan’s thermos was, for once, all alone, abandoned on the little table where he had been sitting.

“Mister Wu,” Junmyeon called then as he hurried over to grab it, and Yifan paused in the doorway to shoot him a questioning glance. Holding Yifan’s thermos in his hand, Junmyeon made his way back to the entranceway, offering it to the professor. “You forgot this.”

Yifan merely hummed, accepting it into his free hand. Junmyeon didn’t mind the lack of thanks, and instead, quietly shuffled out of the room behind Yifan, feeling awfully tiny beside the tall man.

“I’m surprised you could forget it,” Junmyeon commented then, softly, and Yifan did not bother to even look at him as he spoke. “You’re always drinking from it.”

“I need my coffee,” Yifan said simply, making his way up the three small steps outside of the classroom. Junmyeon followed him.

“Well… I mean, a lot of coffee isn’t very good for your body,” Junmyeon said hesitantly, trying to keep the conversation going, but unsure as to whether or not he was going to make Yifan angry if he said the wrong thing. Yifan seemed awfully grumpy and Junmyeon didn’t know what sorts of things could press his buttons. He didn’t want to risk it. “And… Not to be rude, but your thermos holds a lot of coffee…”

“Regardless, it helps me stay conscious, because I don’t feel like falling asleep while I’m driving or while I’m teaching,” Yifan replied. They had walked down the main corridor a few feet before Yifan suddenly stopped, setting down his painting so that he could dig in his pants pocket. Junmyeon could hear jingling as the man hunted for his keys, and as he glanced up at the door, he found a small plaque on the wall, little letters of _Kris Wu, Professor_ staring back at him. Yifan grunted as he pulled out his keys, and began to work on fitting a small golden one into the lock of the office door. “And I prefer my thermos over a coffee mug.”

“But a thermos holds more liquid,” Junmyeon murmured, eyebrows upturning.

“And a thermos has a lid,” Yifan commented, voice monotonous as he swung the door open, before yanking his keys back out. He grabbed his painting and shuffled into the room. As he chucked his keys onto his large desk and carefully propped up his painting against the bookshelf to dry, Junmyeon hesitantly crept into the room as well, looking around with curious eyes. It was the first time he had seen Yifan’s office, or _any_ professor’s office. “Which makes it harder for stupid kids to tamper with my drink.”

Junmyeon stopped staring at the enormous bookshelf along the wall to give Yifan a bewildered look. “Excuse me?”

Yifan let out a dry snort that screamed a lack of amusement as he threw his tote bag onto his desk, before practically collapsing into his desk chair. Junmyeon watched his normally stiff torso practically melt into the cushions. “You try drinking some salty coffee and then tell me how it works out.”

Junmyeon blinked in shock. Someone had really poured salt into his coffee when he wasn’t looking? Junmyeon shook his head slightly. “I… I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s just a drink. Worse things have happened,” Yifan commented casually as he stretched out his legs. “You get used to it after a while.”

He honestly didn’t even know how to respond that, so Junmyeon just kept his mouth shut, going back to examining the professor’s office. Yifan’s massive bookshelf, set up on the right wall, was crammed full with tons of books, their spines decorated with titles about painting, drawing, printmaking, and several other topics. There was no window in the room, leaving the only source of light to be coming from the artificial ones above.

Yifan’s desk was L-shaped; one end was shoved up against the left wall and the remaining portion jutted out into the center of the room. The positioning made it so that Yifan was facing the doorway, and the remaining empty chair, set up in front of his desk, left the visitor’s back facing the doorway instead. The only remaining space was the large filing cabinet that was practically hidden in the corner, vanishing almost entirely from sight once the door was opened, blocked by the wooden structure. There were a few posters hung up around the room to erase the boring white walls. Yifan’s computer was set up on his desk, a printer hooked up right beside it, and the remaining space was occupied by stacks of papers, closed sketchbooks, several cups of pens and pencils and paintbrushes, and, to Junmyeon’s dismay, a coffee maker, at the far end of his desk, right next to his printer.

His gaze fell a little lower to the front of the desk. He was a little surprised. Yifan didn’t have a single personal photograph on his desk. The only thing that greeted his eyes was a small wire basket filled with wrapped chocolates, and three tiny potted cactus plants, not yet flowering.

Yifan must have noticed that he was staring, because he spoke up then with no warning. “If you want a chocolate, then have a chocolate.”

“Oh—No, I wasn’t—“ Junmyeon’s cheeks flushed as awkwardly waved one hand in front of himself. Yifan was just staring at him like he could see straight through him, like glass, and Junmyeon could feel himself slowly caving in. His stomach growled softly, as if egging him on to take the offer. “Well… If you insist.”

Careful as to not accidentally stab himself on one of the cacti, Junmyeon reached into the little basket and fished out one of the chocolates. He was working on peeling off the golden paper as he stole a glance at Yifan. There was a bored look on his face as he clicked around on his computer, combing through his emails.

“Thank you for your help today. And the chocolate too,” Junmyeon said then, breaking the silence as he popped the small treat into his mouth. Yifan’s tired eyes flicked over to him then, and Junmyeon took a moment to chew, eyes twinkling. “To be honest, it’s kinda funny. My roommate and his friends are always talking about how mean and nasty you are, but you actually helped me out _and_ gave me food.”

Yifan just stared at him, and Junmyeon slowly began to realize what he had just said.

“Oh—Not that I agree with them! They just say those kinds of things a lot, is all,” Junmyeon said quickly, once more waving his hands awkwardly in front of his torso, like he always tended to do when he grew nervous. “It’s like how my roommate is always saying you’re kinda ugly—“

Yifan didn’t even blink, and Junmyeon realized he was digging his hole deeper and deeper.

“N-Not that I agree with him! It’s just funny, that’s all,” he babbled, his cheeks beginning to flush. “N-Not that you’re attractive! I just—I—“

With his cheeks officially bright red out of sheer embarrassment, Junmyeon gave up, whining loudly as he reached upwards to bury his now hot face into his hands.

“I’m sorry, I—That came out completely wrong,” Junmyeon moaned pathetically into his palms as he blindly began to back up, bumping into the door in the process. “I gotta go. See you on Friday, mister Wu.”

Finally managing to get at least _somewhat_ of a grip on himself, Junmyeon, after bumping into the furniture a few more times, went dashing out of the office. Yifan merely blinked at the now empty doorway for a moment, his brain clearly struggling to process what had just happened.

And at last, he merely let out an amused snort as he merely slumped down even further into his chair, corner of his mouth twitching into an amused smirk as he went back to reading his messages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 24 July 2016


	4. Brushwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _[ BRUSHWORK ]_  
>  the manner in which a painter applies paint with a brush  
> 

The first thing that Junmyeon heard when he told his friends what happened…was uproarious laughter.

“You _actually_ said that?” Sehun asked him in between laughs, slumped back in his chair at the dinner table. Jongin and Zitao were slumped against each other, completely cracking up at his story. Even Yixing was chuckling. Junmyeon felt his face redden in embarrassment. Maybe he should have kept this story to himself. “Junmyeon, what were you _thinking?”_

“I… I wasn’t, to be honest,” Junmyeon confessed, staring down at his food. “It just kinda slipped out. And he just kept staring at me and not saying anything and it wound up making me nervous so I just kept talking.”

“Of all the things to slip out, you let ‘not that you’re attractive’ slip out?” Zitao asked in disbelief, one of his hands splayed out across the surface of the dining hall table. “What, so he’s not ugly, but he’s not attractive either? Which is it?”

Junmyeon’s face flushed a little darker as he roughly shook his head. “It’s not like that! I just didn’t want him to feel insulted… He just kept staring at me when I dropped the ugly comment, but I didn’t want him to feel like I was trying to hit on him or something!”

“Let him feel insulted. He insults his students all the time. It’d be a nice change of pace,” Zitao said casually, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Besides, why do you care if he feels insulted or not?”

“Because there’s no reason to be rude and I don’t like hurting people’s feelings?” Junmyeon replied, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to defend himself. “Besides, if what you guys keep saying about him being so ruthless is true, then it’s probably not a bad idea for me to stay on his good side.”

“True. Just don’t start being a kiss-up and you’ll be fine,” Sehun commented casually. “Might make him like you but the rest of the class will hate you.”

“I don’t think Kris’ heart even beats, so I doubt he has the capability to like anyone,” Zitao countered, his voice playful as he nudged Jongin in the ribs with his elbow.

Junmyeon was quiet in response to that, picking around the food on his plate with newfound disinterest. The gossip surrounding Yifan was slowly starting to rub him the wrong way. Initially, Junmyeon had been hesitant to listen and partake in the small talk and rumors, knowing that gossiping about someone behind their back was never a good thing to begin with. But recently, the negative commentary he was constantly hearing about the professor gave him such an uneasy feeling. It was unfair; a lot of people that continued to talk had never even met him, let alone take one of his classes. And considering the fact that Junmyeon did not know Yifan personally, and did not know how he functioned outside of his stoic face and grumpy attitude, merely listening to the gossip made him uncomfortable. He really didn’t know anything about Yifan, and neither did anyone else.

It made him feel even worse, knowing that although Yifan was not filled with bubbly energy and sunshine and rainbows, Yifan did not seem to have any problems with lending a helping hand if someone needed it. After all, he had already given Junmyeon his advice without an issue.

Junmyeon blocked out the conversation the best he could and slumped down in his chair just a little further.

* * *

The first week of classes flew by for Junmyeon, and he was beginning to feel it all catching up to him. Week one was simple and slow and it felt like a walk in the park. He was actively answering questions in class, he was getting plenty of rest, and he practically leapt out of bed every morning to start his day. but as the days trickled away and the assignments and study sessions began to pile up, Junmyeon could feel the tiredness and stress slowly creeping up on him. It wasn’t unbearable, not yet at least, but it left him a little groggier when he got out of bed every morning, and it took a bit more energy and focus to pay attention in his lectures.

And a prime example of his attention was wandering too much lately was how he was in his own little world on Tuesday, seated in his desk during his history lecture.

His professor wasn’t bad at all, but Junmyeon just couldn’t submerge himself into the class as much as he did on day one. History was far from Junmyeon’s favorite subject, and listening to his professor prattle on and on about ancient civilizations didn’t make it much better. It was… Well. Honestly, for Junmyeon, it was awfully boring.

And presently in his own world of daydreams and doodling, Junmyeon was no longer even paying attention to the lecture he found so uninteresting. At the moment, Junmyeon’s notebook was a disaster. Lines of messy notes decorated the white sheets, but they eventually began to trail off into incomplete sentences and sloppy handwriting as his focus began to fade. Junmyeon’s desk was near the front of the room, but that didn’t stop him from distractedly beginning to doodle all over his notes.

Junmyeon didn’t see himself as anywhere near the best artist in the world, but making silly doodles could be quite fun. It also kept him moving enough to keep him properly awake and alert.

One thing he really enjoyed drawing was rabbits, and Junmyeon was well on his way to drawing a near army of them. They had completely taken over his notebook, and Junmyeon still refused to stop drawing them. And above his bunny army, Junmyeon had written ‘bunny kingdom’ in big bubble letters, just above his scrawled notes about the romans.

His tongue was peeking out from between his lips in concentration. Junmyeon was hunched over in his desk so that he could press his face down closer to his paper. He was drawing another bunny at the moment, and although he had accidentally drawn this one much larger than the others, it was still cute in his eyes.

He leaned back in his seat and admired his handiwork, an absent grin on his lips. This bunny had an awfully big forehead. And to fill some of the white space, Junmyeon reached down with his pen and gave the bunny two dark and furry eyebrows. It almost looked like the bunny was scowling now. And as he stared at his drawing and took in that grumpy expression—

He instantly busted out laughing, because that face and those eyebrows looked an awful lot like Yifan.

“Care to share what’s so funny with the rest of the class, Junmyeon?”

The sudden question made Junmyeon jump, cheeks almost instantly dusting pink as his head snapped upwards to stare at his professor. The man’s face was unamused, clicker for the projector held in one hand.

“No sir,” Junmyeon replied, gaze falling in embarrassment. “Sorry for the disturbance.”

Apparently the only thing he was good at lately was humiliating himself.

The remainder of lecture seemed to drag on for an eternity, even though in reality it was only a little over fifteen minutes. At last, there were the telltale signs of an ending class as students began to loudly close their books and unzip their backpacks. And with the approved dismissal from their professor, the mass of students all began to clamber out of their seats and rush for the door.

Junmyeon, as usual, did not hurry. As the other kids treated it like a race, all trying to beat each other outside, Junmyeon calmly and slowly began to pack up his belongings. His seat up front was in the middle; he wouldn’t be able to go rushing out of the room even if he wanted to, as he was practically barricaded between the other desks on each side of him.

He had just closed his notebook when a voice piped up from the front of the classroom. “Junmyeon, before you leave, I’d like to speak with you for a moment.”

Almost instantly, there was a drop in his stomach.

Feeling awfully anxious all of a sudden, he grabbed his notebook in one hand and the strap of his backpack in the other. Swinging his bag over his shoulder, Junmyeon trekked to the front of the room. He had heard very few complaints about Luhan, but Junmyeon couldn’t stop the nervousness from boiling inside of his blood as he crept closer. Luhan was finishing up cleaning off the board as he approached, and he swallowed as the professor turned to face him.

“Junmyeon, I don’t want to squander your creativity, but please try to keep the doodling out of class, okay? There is a lot of information during my lectures that you can’t afford to miss if you want to pass. My exams are not easy,” Luhan warned him, his voice soft and gentle. Junmyeon was fidgeting. He had forgotten that Luhan could see everything he was doing, since he was seated in the front of the room. “I just wanted to tell you this so that you can do well. You’re very smart, Junmyeon, I can tell; you’ve been very active in participating in class so far, but you’re starting to get a little distracted. Creativity is good for all of us, but just not at this moment during lecture. There are quite a few art classes being offered; if you like to draw, perhaps you could look into one of those?”

Junmyeon’s body relaxed slightly at hearing those words. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but hearing the man’s calm and concerned monologue was enough to have relief gushing under his skin. The fact that Luhan was not the type to yell and grow angry and just wanted to help was such a good one.

“I’m sorry. You’re right; I need to be more focused,” Junmyeon agreed, fingers playing with the spiraled rings of his notebook. “I actually am enrolled in an art class right now… Introduction to painting.”

“Oh?” Luhan’s eyebrows arched heavenward in curiosity. “Who is your professor?”

“Mister Wu—Oh, er, Kris Wu,” Junmyeon stammered out, remembering that literally every single soul on campus seemed to call the man _Kris_ , except for him. “I’m a beginner, so I don’t think my art will be very good, and it’s really hard, but I do like it.”

“That’s good to hear,” Luhan hummed out, his head tilting vaguely to one side as he gathered his bottle of water and his bag. “What about Kris? Do you like him as a teacher so far?”

“He’s…” Junmyeon started, seeming to be struggling to find the proper words to describe the situation. He sighed. “Well, he’s a little tricky, I guess? I mean, he’s a bit grumpy, so I don’t want to say the wrong thing and make him mad. But he’s been helpful! And I do appreciate that, considering that I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“You don’t need to worry about saying the wrong thing around him, if you’re looking for his advice. Kris really doesn’t mind lending an ear and giving you his opinion, believe it or not,” Luhan told him, and Junmyeon blinked in surprise at those words.

“You know him?” Junmyeon asked, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. The university was quite large; it was not at all uncommon for staff and professors to know next to no one outside of their department.

“Oh yeah. Kris and I have known each other for years,” Luhan replied, heading for the door, and Junmyeon walked right beside him, gazing at him with curious eyes. “We actually went to university together, so we probably met when we were around your age.”

“Wow…” Junmyeon started, his eyes big and wide. “Small world.”

“A small world indeed,” Luhan agreed, his head turning for a moment to glance over at Junmyeon. “Though, really, it feels even smaller after talking to you.”

“Oh… Because it brought up the whole thing about you guys going to school together?” Junmyeon frowned slightly. “I didn’t mean to upset you—“

“No, no, you didn’t upset me at all,” Luhan interjected, his voice as reassuring as possible. The two were heading outside; Junmyeon gave the man his thanks when Luhan held the door open for hm. He was instantly squinting as bright afternoon sunlight struck him in the face. It was lunchtime after all, and campus was alive with students bustling about to get to class or to get something to eat. He assumed Luhan was going to find food somewhere as well.

Luhan pulled a pair of sunglasses from his bag. “It’s just that I see a lot of Kris in you. That’s all.”

“I…” Junmyeon started, blinking in confusion. “I remind you of him?

“Quite a bit, actually.” Luhan just flashed him a smile as he turned away. “Sorry to cut this so short, Junmyeon, but I really need to get going. I have a lecture later and I want to get some food in my system before my stomach winds up eating itself. Try to stay focused, alright?”

And just like that, Luhan scurried off, leaving Junmyeon alone and puzzled, standing there blinking repeatedly as he stood on the sidewalk. The professor’s words were like a puzzle to Junmyeon’s mind, because how on earth was he _anything_ like the grumpy and closed-off Wu Yifan?

Trying not to mull over it too hard, Junmyeon fished his headphones out of the bottom compartment of his backpack. He busied himself with combing through the music on his phone, trying to find something to listen to on his walk over to the art building. Yifan had office hours every day during the week, sans weekends. The only problem was that the majority of those hours clashed against Junmyeon’s schedule. He couldn’t stop by Yifan’s office at all on Monday, Wednesday, or Fridays; the man’s hours were when Junmyeon had lectures elsewhere. Tuesdays and Thursdays, however, he thankfully had breaks that could match up to Yifan’s schedule.

Like right now, for example. He had a break after his history lecture with Luhan, and Yifan’s office was open for another hour. And if Junmyeon was being honest with himself, he knew that he needed to sit down and talk to Yifan about his project. The deadline was approaching fast, and Junmyeon just couldn’t keep up. He was lagging behind everyone else in the class; he just didn’t paint quickly enough. Not only that, but the _way_ he painted was not exactly something he liked. He didn’t like the way his paint strokes mixed together on the canvas, or the way his colors blended out, or the way it just looked _sloppy_ in his eyes.

He wanted to do well in class, but he wanted to have fun painting too. It was why he took the class to begin with; to learn and have a good time. But now when he sat there on his chair and tried to paint, it was like every little thing he did was starting to annoy him. He was unhappy with his art already, and they were only on their first project.

Sighing, Junmyeon adjusted one of the straps of his backpack as he walked. His keychains jingled loudly with every silent footstep on the sidewalk. He felt oddly tired, and it wasn’t even one yet. He had a quiz for math coming up, but maybe Sehun had been right when he said he needed to just put his books away and call it a night. He had definitely stayed up too late…

Functioning on autopilot, Junmyeon made his way to the art building before wandering inside. There were a few students lingering in the halls, talking to one another, seeming too distracted by their current conversations to even notice Junmyeon. He didn’t mind. Instead, he walked down that familiar corridor, before making his way down the three steps. Once he approached the classroom, Junmyeon poked his head inside to make sure there wasn’t a lecture going on at the moment. Thankfully, the room was deserted, and Junmyeon entered, making a beeline for the drying rack. The display of random objects that Yifan had set up was still there, motionless and undisturbed beneath a thin white sheet. He could recall Yifan saying that the room was always open; if you wanted to work on your painting outside of class hours, you could.

But it wasn’t very surprising, in Junmyeon’s eyes, that no one had stopped by after lecture. What student wanted to take extra time out of their already busy day to do even more schoolwork?

Grabbing his painting off the rack, Junmyeon swiveled on his heel, and began to make his way back out of the room, bag jingling the entire time. Passing through the doorway, Junmyeon practically hopped up the three steps that he had taken countless times already this semester. Then, wandering down the corridor, Junmyeon began to head for Yifan’s office. He paused momentarily to admire some of the art that was hanging up on the walls, and Junmyeon had to admit, the drawings did make him feel an odd mix of emotions, from awe to envy. Some people drew so wonderfully, but it did make him a little jealous that he could not draw in such a fashion.

He glanced down at his painting and wrinkled his nose. Apparently he couldn’t paint either.

Sighing once more, his shoulders slumping, Junmyeon continued on his way. He easily remembered where Yifan’s office was, and it wasn’t before long that Junmyeon passed the familiar little plaque that read _Kris Wu, Professor_. He paused for a moment, noticing that the large wooden door of Yifan’s office was opened only a crack. Majority of professors kept their doors open a little wider during their office hours, and it made Junmyeon hesitate, not sure if Yifan was busy with another student or was possibly doing something important, like a phone call. But as he stood there, Junmyeon couldn’t hear anything.

Unsure of what to do, Junmyeon at last reached out and knocked on the door, clutching his painting with his free hand. And he paused for a long moment, waiting to hear a confirmation that it was alright to enter, but Junmyeon received nothing.

“Mister Wu?” Biting down on his lip, Junmyeon at last gathered the courage to just push the door open, hoping Yifan wouldn’t be angry with him for it. “I’m sorry if you’re…busy…”

Instantly, Junmyeon realized why Yifan had the door almost completely closed, and as to why  the professor hadn’t answered him. Hunched over, glasses perched on top of his head, Yifan had his face resting on his desk, arms sprawled lifelessly on either side of his skull. Cheek squished against the hard wood, Yifan was breathing deeply with sleep, an occasional soft snore working its way out of him.

Junmyeon stood there awkwardly for a second. Should he wake the man up? Leave him be? The options were practically endless and Junmyeon didn’t not know what path to take. Still, he wound up creeping a little closer, converse sneakers quiet against the tiled flooring. He couldn’t help but notice that, of all things, Yifan was loosely gripping a _spoon_ in his right hand. And when Junmyeon’s eyes roved over the man’s desk, he couldn’t help but wince as he noticed that there was a pen sticking out of the coffee cup that was sitting there.

Was he really that tired?

Junmyeon hesitated for a moment, standing there on the opposite side of Yifan’s desk, watching Yifan’s back and shoulders rise slightly as he inhaled, falling again when he exhaled. His lips were parted as he drooled on a pile of papers underneath his chin.

Deciding to leave him alone, Junmyeon turned slightly, about to head for the door. However, not watching where he was going, just like last time, Junmyeon wound up running into some furniture on his way out. And this time, it was the large chair that was sitting across the desk from Yifan. Bumping into it roughly, the chair screeched loudly as it slid across the floor, and like a reflex, Yifan shot upright with a snort, immediately awake.

Junmyeon couldn’t help but feel guilty as he noticed how disoriented the man looked.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Junmyeon babbled as soon as the professor looked at him. He clutched his canvas a little tighter, eyes wide with worry. “I just…wanted to talk to you about my painting, but if you’re busy, I can leave. I’m sorry, I—“

“Don’t apologize. It’s my office hour. You’re allowed to be here,” Yifan interrupted sleepily, dragging one large palm down his face in an attempt of waking himself up properly. Junmyeon stood there, motionless, watching as Yifan reached for his coffee cup. He opened his mouth to warn Yifan about the newest unwanted visitor to his cup, but he didn’t really have a chance. Yifan already found it, an annoyed look on his face as he fished the pen out, before sighing as he leaned over to chuck it into the trash. And then he took a long swig of his drink, before his face morphed into disgust, lowering his cup instantly. “Ruined my favorite pen _and_ this coffee is cold.”

Junmyeon shuffled his feet as he held onto his painting. “Mister Wu, if you’re tired, I can leave…”

“I’m always tired. This is nothing new,” Yifan said, reaching up for a moment to rub his eyes. “And I’m already awake, so you may as well go ahead and ask what you were going to ask.”

After a long moment of hesitation, taking in Yifan’s sleepy but expectant face, Junmyeon at last began to crumble. He shuffled to the edge of the desk so that he could hold out his painting for Yifan to see. “I’m…having a lot of problems with this assignment.”

“Okay?” Yifan started, his voice dry as he stared down at the canvas, his puffy eyes calculating. “What of it?”

There it was again, Yifan asking him to be more specific. Junmyeon was fidgeting with the top corner of the canvas, pad of his thumb rolling over the staples along the back side. “It’s just… Well… For starters, I can’t keep up. I’m trying really hard, but everyone is working faster than me…”

“That’s something I can’t help you with. You’re a beginner, Junmyeon; things are going to be different for you. You’re going to have to work harder than someone who has years worth of experience doing this sort of thing,” Yifan told him. “Everyone works at their own pace, but sometimes, you have to bend. The real world has deadlines and you have to meet them. You just have to try your best to keep up. It will get easier with time. You will get faster. But for now, there is not much I can do to help you find your rhythm. That is something you will have to figure out on your own.”

Junmyeon bit his lip, already thinking about the approaching deadline for their project. He really was going to finish by the skin of his teeth, wasn’t he? He sighed a little, trying not to get disappointed. Yifan was right; there was nothing the professor could do to make him work faster. That was all on him. But still, that didn’t mean Junmyeon had gotten his hopes up that the man would offer him some advice…

“Well… The other issue I’m having…” Junmyeon started, noticing how Yifan wouldn’t look at him, instead keeping his eyes glued to his painting. After a moment of squinting, he reached for his glasses so that he could see Junmyeon’s work more clearly. The squinting stopped as soon as he put them on. “Is the way I’m painting. Like… My strokes look so messy, and my blending is so obvious. You can tell where the edges of the colors meet. And it’s so, _so_ frustrating, because I want it to look nice, but it looks… It looks so sloppy and _ugly.”_

“If this is the attitude you’re having with yourself over your very first painting, I hate to think about what’s going to come out of your mouth later on when we start other projects,” Yifan said, and Junmyeon paused at that, his eyebrows furrowing together in puzzlement by the sudden comment. “Tearing yourself up like that over your _first painting_ is not going to help you improve, Junmyeon, and neither is getting frustrated, nor feeling sorry for yourself. Art is hard. It’s really, really hard, and you have to be willing to put in the work to get better. But beating yourself down over a lack of significant improvement is not going to get you anywhere.”

Before Junmyeon could even open his mouth to speak, Yifan continued talking, successfully cutting off his chance of replying.

“Now, first of all, part of your problem here with your strokes and blending and such is that you have to remember that acrylic painting is a process of layering. A lot of places here on your canvas with obvious paint strokes is where you only put down one layer of paint. You see here?” Yifan tapped the canvas with his index finger, and Junmyeon shifted his weight anxiously from foot to foot. “It looks nearly transparent, because you only put down one layer of paint. And when it’s see through like that, it’s easier to tell the shape of your strokes. If you slap some more paint over this, it wouldn’t look messy anymore. That’s your only issue, Junmyeon. Your paint strokes are fine, it’s the fact that you need to layer more. Regardless, being able to locate and see your paint strokes like this is not a bad thing. It’s all a matter of style. So don’t be so hard on yourself. Being hard on you and the others is _my_ job. Got it?”

Junmyeon released a breath he hadn’t realized that he had been holding as he nodded. “Y-Yes sir.”

“Good. Now, like I told you, acrylic painting is layering. Blending is not the biggest thing in the world. How much do you really need to blend in a painting anyway? For lighting and shadows, yes, you’ll probably need to, but having a fine line between one painted object and another is a good thing. It helps you tell the difference between the things on your painting. If you blend all your edges together, it’s going to look like trash. You won’t be able to tell one thing from another.” Yifan finally glanced up at him. “Where are you struggling?”

“Mainly with, um, I guess the shadows… Where the object gets darker near the bottom? And near the back, since it’s away from the light…” Junmyeon trailed off as he lowered one hand to show Yifan an example. “Like this bowl. I tried to blend in some darker hues near the back where the shadows are, but… It doesn’t look right. You can tell where I tried to blend it and it looks really unnatural.”

Yifan was quiet for a moment, mulling it over. “Your colors complement each other and are in the same family, so that’s not the issue. It’s how you’re blending them together that makes it look like this. How exactly are you blending it?”

Junmyeon blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. “I’m sorry, I… I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”

“Pull the chair over here and sit down. It’d be easier to show you,” Yifan ordered then, and Junmyeon scrambled to obey.

Yifan took the canvas out of his hand and laid it out on his desk, atop of the printer so that it was out of the way, as Junmyeon grabbed the chair, pushing it across the floor and around the desk so that he was sitting beside Yifan. The man was rummaging through the cups on his desk, before at last pulling out a paintbrush. Yifan then pushed his chair back, folding himself in half so that he could rummage around underneath his desk. Junmyeon could just barely make out the outline of a large box, and when Yifan suddenly pulled out two tubes of paint, he figured it was where Yifan stored his art supplies.

“So,” Yifan began, rummaging through the mass amounts of papers on his desk before at last grabbing a thick sheet of watercolor paper. He unceremoniously uncapped the bottle of paint and squirted a small bit of green onto the paper, before doing the same with the yellow. “If I had to take a guess here, you’re not going fast enough, and that’s why your blending isn’t turning out the way you want it. If you’re using acrylics, you need to blend while the paint is still wet. I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that acrylics dry quickly.”

Junmyeon was quiet, watching the man as he flattened out the blob of green paint with his brush into long, neat streaks. Yifan’s hand looked enormous around the thin handle of the paintbrush, and Junmyeon stared with interested eyes as Yifan didn’t bother to clean out his brush, instead going straight for the yellow, and began to flatten it out too. The remaining green on the bristles tinted the bright color, darkening it slightly.

“So, this is probably what your painting looked like. Two areas of color. What I normally do is work both colors in toward one another, mix, then work them back outward each direction to fade and blend.” Yifan didn’t look up from his paper at all, his large fingers working in a blur as he smeared yellow and green toward the middle of the paper. Bristles shuffled across the surface and Yifan mixed them together. “Then you just work your way back outward and blend, like so…”

Junmyeon watched as Yifan scrubbed at the paper with his brush. Streaks of color pushed to one side as Yifan blended the mixture over the yellow, fading them together, and doing the same on the green side. The mixed paint in the center mingled so easily with the yellow and green, wet paint twirling together, and fading as one the further outward Yifan went.

“It’s something that takes practice. And if you mess up, or it doesn’t look quite right, just slap another layer on top. It’s acrylic after all,” Yifan said. “Sometimes it takes several upon several tries to get the blending right. Shadows and light sources aren’t always an easy thing to deal with. But like I said, it takes practice.”

“How long have you been doing this?” Junmyeon asked, a bit of awe in his voice as he looked at Yifan’s calm expression. “You did that so quickly…”

“I’ve been doing art related things since I was a kid,” Yifan replied, and Junmyeon blinked in surprise as the professor suddenly rummaged through his cup again. The man pulled out a paintbrush before suddenly shoving it his direction. “Here. You’re going to try it.”

“R-Right now?” Junmyeon deadpanned, stuttering slightly with newfound nerves. Yifan was going to sit here and _watch_ him paint?

“Yes, right now. You came here for help, didn’t you?” Yifan merely arched one eyebrow at him as he squirted paint back onto the piece of paper, just like before, one blob of yellow and one blob of green. “Some people find it easier to wash their brush in between colors, but I think it’s easier to just leave the color on there. It looks more natural. Now give it a go.”

Nervously licking his lips, Junmyeon reached out slowly, dipping his brush almost hesitantly into the paint. He could feel Yifan’s eyes drilling into him, watching his every move, and it made him awfully uncomfortable. He knew Yifan was just trying to help him, but it made him so anxious to suddenly be on the spot.

“One thing that may be giving you an issue is how you’re holding your brush,” Yifan said then, and Junmyeon jumped, the sudden comment startling him. “You’re too stiff.”

“But…” Junmyeon started, hesitating briefly before deciding to just fess up. “A lot of the videos I watched said this is how you hold it.”

“Videos? Okay, but I can watch videos of people drawing all day long, but I can guarantee you that none of those people hold a pencil like I do,” Yifan said, and Junmyeon froze as the man suddenly reached over, gripping his hand with his own. “Loosen up. Just hold it however it feels comfortable, but you’re holding it way too tight.”

Yifan’s hand was big and Junmyeon felt an odd warmth in his arm as the professor began to loosen his curled fingers with his own. Cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment, along with an odd heat in his hand that seemed to spread through his whole body, Junmyeon just sat there and let the man do what he wanted. After a moment he was at last holding the brush a little looser, and when Yifan let him go, he did find that the grip was a lot more comfortable than it had been a few minutes ago. Maybe he just needed to experiment and figure out what kind of grip was best for him?

Yifan let him go, his voice dry as always. “I think that was part of your issue. The way you blend isn’t bad. Could use some more practice; you’re shaky when you get toward the outer edge, which may be why you’re getting some of those stray colors that make it look unnatural. Otherwise, you seem squared away.”

Yifan didn’t seem to be affected at all by what had just happened, instead just casually reached over near his printer and rummaging through a small box. Junmyeon glanced up just in time to see Yifan with a donut in his hand.

“Make sense?” Yifan asked then, taking a large bite of his donut. “Or do you need another example?”

“No, I… I think I got it.” Junmyeon nearly threw down the paintbrush then, as if it had burned him. His face was still red. “That was all I was stuck on. I’ll… I’ll try what you said, mister Wu. Hopefully I can get everything squared away in time.”

Yifan just hummed as he crammed the donut into his mouth to take another bite of it, seeming blissfully unaware of Junmyeon’s distress. Junmyeon went to gather his belongings, thanking Yifan for his time, and even when Yifan didn’t say you’re welcome, Junmyeon’s arm was still tingling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 30 July 2016


	5. Monochrome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _[ MONOCHROME ]  
>  having a single color; a work of art rendered in only one color_  
> 

His eyelids were unbearably heavy.

Alone in the room, perched in front of the sink, Yifan yawned loudly as the sound of running water echoed in his eardrums. There was something oddly satisfying about it all, seeing the liquid splatter against the silver colored material of the sink. He could watch the clear water bleed into different hues as he rinsed out his paintbrushes.

Presently milky and faded streams of yellows and greens were running with the flow and down the drain. Yifan was working the wet bristles between his fingers slowly, trying to remove every last bit of lingering paint that he could. The water was warm against his skin, and he could hear the sink gurgling quietly as the liquid moved down the drain.

The tones of yellow and green were not nearly as appealing as the shade of pink that Yifan had the opportunity to witness earlier.

Red was Yifan’s favorite color. It was one color that Yifan found aesthetically pleasing no matter where it was plastered, whether it be on clothing, on paper, on the faded and rough brick of his apartment building.

And, apparently, he also liked it when it was smeared across a certain someone’s cheeks.

Yifan gathered his belongings, taking a few moments to squeeze at the bristles of his brushes in an attempt of soaking up majority of the water within them. After a moment, and finally feeling satisfied, Yifan grabbed a few extra paper towels so that his brushes wouldn’t leak all over his desk while they dried. He then trekked across the room and ducked out of it, climbing the three small steps, and heading into the abandoned hallway. With it being in between lectures, it didn’t come as any surprise to Yifan that no students were lingering around at the moment.

His black shoes were old and worn and Yifan was annoyed as he listened to them squeak pathetically with every footstep he took.

Yawning once more, Yifan headed into his office, before using his free hand to close the door behind himself. His office hours were over, but he still had half an hour before his next and final lecture of the day.

Yifan busied himself with storing his paintbrushes in the cups that covered his desk, stationed right in front of his computer monitor. They weren’t even close to being organized, merely crammed full with a random assortment of pens, pencils, brushes, and markers in each one. The lack of a system was annoying at times, when he was looking for a certain color or specific sized brush, but Yifan still had yet to get around to organizing his collection.

With that out of the way, the professor let out a relieved sigh as he flopped back down in his chair. Having a long lecture was great, sure; it allowed a large enough timeframe for him and his students to actually get some work done. But the strain it put on his already aching body was not something Yifan enjoyed in the slightest.

Yifan swiveled his chair around to fish out another donut from the nearly empty box he had sitting on his desk. Holding it in his left hand, Yifan grabbed his reading glasses off his desk and slid them on with his right. And, with his right free again, Yifan slumped down in his chair and grabbed the mouse so that he could begin combing through his new emails. Yifan received tons of messages during the week, and he hated reading and replying to them all.

The newsletters and chain messages going around for university staff were both topics that Yifan didn’t care about. Whether it be a gathering for professors or a meeting for their department, Yifan steered clear of them all unless he was required to go. He didn’t need to waste time socializing with people he didn’t click with in the slightest. Hell, he and the other art professors on his hall didn’t even speak to each other normally, so why would he go out of his way to meet up with them at some party? Pointless.

That was one aspect of it, but Yifan hated getting emails from students even more. Sure, Yifan was a teacher. He was supposed to help out his students when they had questions, and he knew that. He didn’t have an issue with offering his advice when he was prompted. He, did, however, have a problem with students sending him emails that left Yifan with no idea of how to respond. It should have been common sense, in Yifan’s eyes, that without someone’s artwork for him there in the present to actually _see_ , he wasn’t going to be able to give his advice. And kids didn’t seem to get it. He wasn’t going to be able to tell a student what colors would blend together the best to make whatever hue they mentioned in the email. He couldn’t imagine the way the light or shadows were positioned based off of some text. He needed something to actually look at, something tangible, but it seemed like no one ever realized that.

And of course, they always became angry when Yifan told them he needed more information.

He didn’t get it. He had office hours for a reason, and yet, no one ever stopped by to ask for help, save for a lone strangler every once in a blue moon. And that never ended well, because when Yifan said what was on his mind about their art, they always seemed to take it as a personal attack. No one bothered to stop by during his office hours or ask questions during class, but everyone loved to email him for help, especially at the very last minute.

Then again… Junmyeon had mixed that up quite a bit.

Yifan sat back in his chair, finishing off his donut easily and, on autopilot, he was already reaching for another one. Chewing thoughtfully, Yifan peered over the top rim of his glasses to stare at the cups of art supplies sitting on his desk. Junmyeon was a rare one, that was for sure. Yifan could count on one hand how many students he had over the years that were like Junmyeon, eager to learn and unashamed about asking for help. Yifan had experienced having students with that mindset before, but he couldn’t recall ever having a kid in one of his classes that was _quite_ like Junmyeon.

Yifan had already witnessed the kid’s high energy and bubbly, optimistic attitude. That was something Yifan had seen time and time again in freshmen, even the ones that had been enrolled in his classes. And Yifan always sat back quietly and watched them crumble, being an eyewitness to the way they began to realize things were not quite the way they had dreamed. And the slap of reality was always painful. Perhaps that was why Yifan had mentioned it to Junmyeon a few days prior, trying to warn him in advance, to try to soften the blow before it came. Because really, Yifan could tell that Junmyeon had an awful amount of dreams and hopes lingering inside of him, if that never-faltering happy smile always plastered on his lips had anything to say about it.

What was so uncommon was that Junmyeon was an odd mesh of personalities. A metaphor, almost, and Yifan was beginning to spot it as the days passed. Junmyeon could be loud. Junmyeon could be warm and bubbly and energetic. But from their previous conversations, Yifan could see the other aspects of his personality lingering in the cracks. Yifan wasn’t sure how the boy acted outside of class, but during his lecture, Junmyeon screamed _people pleaser._ Yifan had already seen, countless times, how Junmyeon became shy and uncertain around people. He would always go last to clean out his brushes. He always spoke with such hesitance to the other kids, like he was afraid he was being a nuisance. The way he always seemed to start his sentences with ‘um’ or ‘sorry, but’ when he asked Yifan for help. How angry at himself he became, and how embarrassed he grew, when he spilled his water that one day during class, and the other kids laughed at him.

Junmyeon wanted so desperately to fit in, for people to like him, and for Yifan, a man who was older than the kids enrolled in his class, he could see it plain as day.

Yes, Junmyeon was odd indeed. Yifan hummed to himself, setting his glasses down on his desk as he absently licked donut glaze off his thumb. He couldn’t help but think back to earlier. Junmyeon and his reluctance to ask for help because he had walked in on Yifan napping. Junmyeon and his stuttering when he was taken by surprise. Junmyeon and his red face when Yifan grabbed him by the hand.

Now _that_ had been a surprise. Yifan, of course, didn’t let it show on his face that he had caught on to what was happening, but oh, he had definitely seen it. Junmyeon’s skin was rather fair, and it wasn’t hard to pick out the pink that quickly bloomed to red on his face. He wasn’t deaf; hearing Junmyeon turn into a mess of stutters suddenly was so easy to pick up on. And of course, the way Junmyeon had thrown his paintbrush down like it had tried to bite him… Yifan had _easily_ noticed all of it.

And it was, if he had to admit it, cute.

Rummaging around in the bottom drawer of his desk, Yifan at last pulled out a fuzzy black blanket.  The insulation in his office was poor and it wasn’t uncommon for Yifan to grow cold in the room, especially once autumn and winter months fell. It was also helpful for late nights. And, of course, for moments like this one, where he was exhausted and just wanted to sleep.

After taking a brief moment to set an alarm on his phone, Yifan proceeded to burrow down a little more in seat, leaning back in it. He then wrapped himself up in the fabric and closed his eyes, sighing softly through his nose as he felt his body instantly beginning to relax.

While he waited for slumber to whisk him away from reality, Yifan’s mind drifted. He thought back to Junmyeon almost immediately, his face framed red, and Yifan couldn’t stop himself from letting the corners of his mouth twitch into an entertained smile.

Mentally, Yifan, at that very moment, made a bet with himself to see if he could pull that same color out of Junmyeon’s cheeks once more.

He was sure that he could.

* * *

By the time Friday rolled around, Junmyeon felt as if he had not slept in days. He was falling behind, and _badly._ And at this point, it wasn’t even just in Yifan’s class anymore. Junmyeon couldn’t keep up with any of his classes. He had quizzes and tests to study for, homework to do, projects to make. He was violently struggling to keep up, and it was as if no matter how Junmyeon divided his time, there just wasn’t enough of it. And one of the few things Junmyeon could do to buy more time was to not sleep. He stayed up late for several days, and for someone like Junmyeon, who was accustomed to going to bed early and rising early, it was completely slaughtering him.

Running on only a few hours of sleep from a long night, getting up that Friday morning had been completely brutal. Junmyeon had worked well into the night to finish his painting for Yifan’s class, neglecting the need to study for his biology quiz later that day. And even when Sehun went to sleep, Junmyeon was still awake, working by the light of his lamp as he painted away. He had to get it finished, and he needed it to look good. And after several hours of working, and struggling to stay awake, Junmyeon at last could call his work complete.

Junmyeon couldn’t remember a time when he had ever crawled into bed at three in the morning.

Tired and disoriented and feeling _awful_ , Junmyeon’s commute to class that morning was slow and torturous as he lugged his painting across campus with him. As he carried his painting, Junmyeon easily remembered that nearly everyone in the class had already finished their work by the end of lecture on Wednesday. Junmyeon and only a few other kids took their paintings home that day so that they could continue to work on them. And simply recalling it made him feel even worse. He really hated the fact he was working so slow, but he was trying his hardest.

Junmyeon hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning either, skipping it so that he could catch a few extra winks of sleep before class. Though as he shuffled into class, already feeling so horribly drained and heavy, perhaps forgoing a meal hadn’t been his best idea.

Apparently he looked as bad as he felt, if he was judging by the worried stare Yixing was giving him as Junmyeon took his seat.

“Are you okay?” Yixing asked him, pulling out one of his headphones, his dark eyebrows upturning. “You look a little… Uh…”

“I’m tired,” Junmyeon mumbled, presently too exhausted to grin as wide as he normally did. He merely did his best and flashed Yixing a soft smile, framed by sleepy eyes and dark circles, as he dropped his backpack onto the floor. He set his painting down as well, slowly and carefully.

“Rough night?” Yixing asked then, his eyes flicking towards the door for a moment as he noticed that Yifan was entering the room now, closing the door behind him and locking it with a secure _click._

Junmyeon just nodded in response, dragging one little fist across his eyes in a rather poor attempt of becoming more alert. He was so sleepy. He wanted to go back to bed. Honestly, Junmyeon wasn’t sure if he was even going to survive the remainder of the day’s classes. Yifan’s three hour long lecture was already going to be tough enough as it was. And while Junmyeon was usually the one to work his hardest, the thought of taking his quiz later and then skipping the rest of his lectures so that he could just go to sleep sounded like such a good idea.

Yifan had made his way to the front of the room, staying mute, as he always did. Junmyeon blinked groggily as he watched the man hold his thermos in one hand as he approached the chalkboard, taking one of the little white sticks into his remaining fingers.

“So, today is the due date for your first project,” Yifan said then, easily speaking over the noise of the stick of chalk scratching at the dusty chalkboard. “If you haven’t already, turn your paintings in on the back counter while I finish this.”

Junmyeon grabbed his painting then, and heaved himself out of his seat. He watched only a few others climb to their feet as well, and Junmyeon felt that nagging inside of him again as he walked to the back of the classroom. He let the other kids go first, like he always did, and Junmyeon was the last one to deposit his work onto the counter. The students all had their paintings set up in three piles, canvases with dried paint complete in short stacks. He stood there for a moment, staring down at his own creation. And with a heavy sigh, Junmyeon set his down on top of the stack on the far right, before turning away from his own work of paint and a written name on the back.

By the time Junmyeon made his way back to his seat, Yifan had finished up at the board. He was sinking back down into his seat when Yifan swiveled on his heel, turning to face the class. Junmyeon couldn’t help but think back to Yifan’s outrageous outfit with the dragon t-shirt from a few days prior as he briefly let his gaze flick to Yifan’s shoes. They looked like the same brand, just a different color. Junmyeon had never been happier to see the color blue in his entire life. _Anything_ was better than the tacky lime green. He may have been disoriented and sleep-deprived, but Junmyeon knew that for a fact.

“I’ll grade your paintings this weekend. You can expect them back on Monday. And, as I mentioned on the first day, your work will be returned with a copy of the grading rubric that correlates to this project. You will receive a breakdown of the points that you have received, and you will also have a brief bulleted list from me saying what you need to work on,” Yifan said, stepping forward so that he could sink down onto the lone barstool that always remained at the front of the room. “None of you are perfect, and neither am I. The only way you’re going to improve in your work is if you hear constructive criticism. And, of course, if you would like to discuss your grade with me, you can do so outside of lecture in my office.”

The class remained silent in response. Junmyeon’s eyelids felt so heavy. It was going to be a long lecture. And Junmyeon could not afford to fall asleep. He was already behind, and knowing Yifan, he would probably lose it if Junmyeon dozed off while he was supposed to be working. He had already been called out in front of everyone for talking; the last thing he wanted was to also be singled out for sleeping in class on top of it.

“Then I suppose, as usual, there aren’t any questions.” Yifan waited for a brief moment, but when no one spoke, he merely shook his head slightly to himself as he sipped his coffee. “Right. In that case, let’s move on. We will be starting your second project today.”

Junmyeon felt his heart sink in realization. He had left all of his supplies in his dorm. Majority of students were making use of the line of lockers that lined the hallways of the art building so that they wouldn’t have to lug their art supplies from their dorm to class every single day. And for a while, Junmyeon had been doing the same. But since he needed to work on Yifan’s painting last night, Junmyeon had carried all his paint and brushes to his dorm. And in his tired morning rush, Junmyeon had walked right out of the dorm without them. All he had in his locker were his two blank canvases he had already purchased at the very start of the semester.

He bit his lip. What was he going to do now?

“So, this project will also be in acrylics. We’re going to continue to use them for the next couple of paintings before I ween you off onto something else. But that isn’t important at the moment.” Yifan had turned slightly on his barstool to show off the text on the chalkboard, and was talking in his typical monotone voice as he elaborated on what he had written there. “For this assignment, you will be given more freedom than you had in the previous one. While the same rules apply here – filling your space, for example – you will be able to decide on your own what to paint. That, however, is not an excuse for laziness.

“For this assignment, you will be required to paint an animal. Any animal. Mammal, insect, fish, whatever. Anything. The only catch here is that your painting has to be monochromatic,” Yifan continued. “You will also be allowed to choose your own color. However, keep in mind that whatever color you choose will be the _only_ color you will be allowed to use for the duration of this entire project. I would suggest picking something that you can tolerate for that long.”

Yifan heaved himself back up onto his own two feet and, just like he had done when describing their first assignment, he began to fiddle with the projector to turn it on.

“We’ll go over some background information,” Yifan said. Junmyeon watched tiredly as he collected his clicker in one hand and began to tug down the projection screen, letting it cover the chalkboard. “Talk about monochrome techniques, and then I’ll turn you loose.”

It was going to be a long morning.

* * *

Yixing had been Junmyeon’s saving grace during lecture. After Yifan had gone over his presentation about monochromatic techniques, he let the class go ahead and get started. A large portion of the class wandered briefly into the halls to gather some last minute supplies. Yifan thankfully did not seem to care. And Junmyeon was one of them, keeping close to Yixing as the two of them headed out the door. Their lockers were close together, and as Junmyeon fished one blank canvas out of storage, he admitted his dilemma to Yixing.

_“You can borrow some of my stuff for today, if you want,” Yixing offered, pulling out a bag of paintbrushes with a thoughtful look on his face._

_“Seriously?” Junmyeon asked, his tired eyes lighting up in newfound hope. His heart squeezed with relief as Yixing handed him a few paintbrushes almost instantly in response. “Thank you… You’re a lifesaver. Really.”_

_“It’s not a problem,” Yixing told him, letting out a chuckle. “What color paint do you want?”_

_Junmyeon paused for a moment, licking his lips in thought. And after debating it, he at last settled on what color he wanted the most. “Red.”_

_“Red?” Yixing asked, tilting his head vaguely to one side as he obediently fished out his bottle of red paint, handing it over to Junmyeon. “Is that your favorite?”_

_“Ah… No, it isn’t. But I think it’ll match my painting really well,” Junmyeon explained, murmuring his thanks as he accepted the tube._

_“What animal are you doing then?” Yixing asked, sounding confused as he pulled out a bottle of blue paint for himself, before closing his locker. He had to nearly slam it shut, because his was old and liked to stick unless he forced it closed._

_“A rabbit,” Junmyeon replied instantly, face warming in an exhausted smile. “They’re my favorite. I think the red will look nice, and since mister Wu mentioned we can only use one color, if I add a lot of white to make it pink, it’ll look even cuter.”_

It was good in theory. Junmyeon had settled back down in his chair during lecture not long after that and had begun to look up reference photos of rabbits on his phone, knowing that Yifan expected realism. His cutesy cartoon bunnies that he loved to draw wouldn’t cut it for this project. And things had, at that point, been going quite well. Junmyeon found a bunch of high quality photographs he could use for references and saved them to his phone. He had his canvas. He had his supplies, thanks to Yixing. All seemed well in the world. But there was one problem.

Junmyeon was typically a bit clumsy, but a sleepy and tired Junmyeon was even more accident-prone than usual.

The signs had all been there, ever since last night. Junmyeon just hadn’t been paying attention. For example, the way he stubbed his toe on his desk when trying to turn off his lamp and get into bed. The way he had literally fallen flat of his face earlier that morning after slipping on the rug that resided next to his bed. The way he dropped his painting in the middle of the sidewalk on his commute to the art building. The way he had accidentally slammed his own shirt sleeve into his locker, and Yixing was his only saving grace. He would have otherwise been forced to take his shirt off to get his locker open to free himself.

And it didn’t stop there.

Now that Junmyeon was attempting to start painting, the trail of clumsiness was still hot on his heels. And really, Junmyeon wanted nothing more at this point other than to completely disappear. He had missed his seat when he tried to sit down and wound up falling to the floor. The laughter he heard in response to that wasn’t very comforting. He had also managed to knock his easel over _twice_ so far. And, now that he had dared himself to open the bottle of paint, the disaster kept right on going. For example, the way the paint had decided to squirt out of the bottle and get all over his shirt. Or the way the paint had dripped off his brush and onto his jeans.

He wanted to go back to his dorm and hide under his covers for a few years.

He sighed. Junmyeon kept making mistakes and needed to rinse out his brush. His desk was a mess of wet paper towels and adorned with a full cup of dirty paint water. He really needed to clean it out. He could tell that his bristles weren’t getting properly cleaned due to the filth; his strokes on the canvas seemed to carry color even when Junmyeon _just_ washed out his brush.

But with Junmyeon being Junmyeon, it was easier said than done.

Junmyeon had no idea what anyone around him was doing anymore. Junmyeon had long dived into his own little world as he tried to work. Not bothering to survey his surroundings, Junmyeon merely grabbed his cup of water and hauled himself to his feet. He was still wearing his headphones. Junmyeon was staring down at his phone as he walked, combing through his music in an attempt of finding something new to listen to. And due to him not paying attention, Junmyeon didn’t at all notice the figure that was in his path until it was too late.

His face was the first thing that made contact. Junmyeon let out a loud grunt as he went stumbling back, his hands jerking on reflex. And of course, with the sudden movement, it sent a large portion of his paint water sloshing out of his cup. With how close he was holding it to himself, most of it splattered across his chest. The remainder hit the tiled floor with a wet sound, and Junmyeon stumbled numbly back a few more paces as he looked up at last to see what he had run into.

And instantly, the shame was swelling in his gut as he found Yifan’s eyes staring back at him.

Junmyeon hadn’t even realized that the man was no longer at the front of the room, where he was normally stationed. Instead, Yifan was standing near the back of the class, hovering near a girl’s desk as he studied her work in progress that was plastered across her canvas. And Yifan had been in the middle of giving his advice when Junmyeon came stumbling along, running right into him. The professor merely stopped in his monologue to turn slightly on his heel, glancing over at Junmyeon from underneath two confused and annoyed fuzzy eyebrows.

“I’m so sorry,” Junmyeon blurted out quickly, breaking the unbearable awkward silence that had bloomed between them. Several students had witnessed what had happened, and had paused in their work to gawk at him. Yifan had stopped everything he was doing as well, merely staring at the boy with that typical unamused expression. Junmyeon hadn’t gotten used to the man’s stoic face, but in a moment like this, Yifan’s grumpy expression made him feel so awfully small. “I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

Before Yifan could even speak, Junmyeon hurried past him. Yifan’s head – along with several other kids’ – turned to follow him, watching Junmyeon go scurrying to the back of the room. He quickly dumped his water out before refilling it, and Yifan was quiet and still as he watched Junmyeon gather up a handful of paper towels. And just like the last time he spilled something, Junmyeon was quick to hurry back to scrub up the mess he made.

And when he finished, he merely rushed back to his seat with his cup in hand, not daring to meet Yifan’s gaze again. Yifan merely stared at him for a moment longer before turning his attention back onto the girl he had been speaking with previously.

And minutes passed. Junmyeon felt small in his seat as he turned his music up louder, trying not to think about what he had just done. He merely tried to focus on his painting, rough as it currently was. His shirt was wet against his chest. His clothes were borderline trashed, and Junmyeon wondered if he was going to be able to remove the paint stains from the fabric at all.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Junmyeon.” It was Yifan’s voice. The boy instantly fumbled for his phone to pause his music, accidentally dripping more paint onto his pants in the process, before he tugged out his headphones. He turned slightly to find the professor standing next to his chair, staring down at him with that unmoving expression. Yifan’s hand was still lingering on his shoulder. “Something the matter?”

“I—“ Junmyeon started, blinking up at the man for a second as he struggled to gather his thoughts. He was so exhausted and out of it he was having problems thinking clearly. Junmyeon was not accustomed to running on hours of little sleep. “N-No, sir. I’m sorry, I’m just…really, really tired.”

Yifan didn’t seem convinced. His words were a direct repeat of the ones he had said during their meeting outside of the café several days ago. “And you’re positive about this?”

“I’m sure. Honest, mister Wu, I’m just…so, _so_ sleepy,” Junmyeon admitted, his gaze falling momentarily. “I didn’t mean to run into you like that. I should’ve been paying attention. It won’t happen again.”

Yifan wrinkled his nose. “If that’s the case, then you need to get some sleep.”

“I will,” Junmyeon replied, nodding just once. His wine-colored bangs fell into his eyes and Junmyeon took a moment to brush them aside. The rest of the class wasn’t paying them any mind, but Junmyeon didn’t notice the fact that Yixing had paused in his work to stare at them in curiosity. “Trust me, I really wanna sleep.”

“Good. You’re not acting like yourself,” Yifan said bluntly. His hand had fallen from its spot on Junmyeon’s shoulder. Instead, it had dipped lower, and Junmyeon blinked in surprise when Yifan suddenly grabbed the hem of his shirt sleeve. “You’re normally more careful than this.”

Junmyeon glanced down, realizing that his sleeve was meager millimeters away from dipping into the paint that was sitting on his palette. But before he could do a thing about it, Yifan, without warning, began to tug up his sleeve without a word, leaving it bunched up around his elbow instead.

He almost instantly felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment as he realized what the man was doing.

“Like I said,” Yifan said then as he abruptly let go. “Get some sleep. It’s Friday. No classes tomorrow. No excuses for you to be staying up.”

Before Junmyeon could utter a single world, Yifan turned away, making his way back up toward the front of the classroom. Junmyeon’s face was still framed pink as he watched Yifan sink down onto his barstool. The color matched oddly well with the red strewn across his canvas.

Even then, Junmyeon was oblivious to the odd look Yixing was giving him, before his friend merely turned his attention back onto his own painting in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 7 Aug 2016


	6. Viewpoint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _[ VIEWPOINT ]_   
>  _the position from which something is viewed or observed_   
> 

Why did Yifan keep touching him?

That thought had been on Junmyeon’s mind nearly the entire day, and it was still there, stuck in his brain as he stood in the bathroom. His eyelids were drooping and, for the third time, Junmyeon accidentally dripped toothpaste onto his shirt. He didn’t care anymore, merely reaching up with his free hand and wiping it off.

Groggily, Junmyeon then continued to brush his teeth as he stared into the mirror. He couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in distaste once he spotted the dark rings spreading out underneath his eyes.

After rinsing out his mouth, teeth scrubbed, Junmyeon wandered back into his dorm room. He hadn’t bothered showering, subconsciously a bit afraid that his tiredness would lead to him slipping and falling and potentially busting his head open. He didn’t want to risk it.

The bedroom was quiet. Sehun had probably just made it to the dining hall to eat dinner with the others. Junmyeon was too tired to go; he had grabbed something small from one of the fast food joints on his way home. Unhealthy, sure, but Junmyeon didn’t really care. He just needed something in his system before he called it a night.

Well, if he could even call it ‘night’, considering it was only six in the evening.

Yawning, Junmyeon stumbled around his bedroom as he tried to change his clothes. He couldn’t help but feel a little upset, even then, as he took in the paint stains that clung to the fabric. He really hoped they would come out in the wash; clothes were expensive, and he really liked the outfit.

As he stripped his shirt over his head, Junmyeon couldn’t help but stare at the bunched up fabric in his hands for a long moment. His mind almost instantly drifted back to Yifan, easily able to recall the way the man had grabbed his sleeve to roll it up for him. And that had been meager days after Yifan had grabbed him by the hand to help him paint.

Why did Yifan keep touching him?

Junmyeon’s cheeks warmed in embarrassment. He busied himself with tugging the t-shirt he slept in over his head. It was much too big on him, but Junmyeon preferred it that way. And as he shuffled over to his bed, he just couldn’t get Yifan out of his head. It didn’t make any sense. Why did Yifan keep doing this to him, but not to anyone else? It wasn’t making him feel uncomfortable – he would have told Yifan to stop otherwise – but it _was_ embarrassing. The fact that he was so clueless about the situation was not helping matters at all. What was Yifan’s purpose behind all this sudden attention? The professor was always so grumpy and blunt and detached, and now he here he was, touching his hand and arm and shoulder so casually?

It made no sense, and neither did the fact that Junmyeon’s skin always seemed to tingle and burn underneath Yifan’s touch.

He tried to brush it off as he hauled himself up and onto his bed, kicking his slippers off in the process. Yifan was the last thing on his mind as Junmyeon burrowed down underneath his blankets, eyes already closing.

He was out the second his head hit the pillow.

* * *

“Okay, so, I’m not trying to start any drama,” Yixing began, and Sehun hummed, walking alongside of the older boy down the sidewalk. “But… Has Junmyeon been acting… I don’t know, weird to you?”

“Junmyeon is always weird,” Sehun replied bluntly, obviously not following Yixing’s thought process. “There’s no way that someone who springs out of bed bright and early every Monday morning could possibly be normal.”

“That’s…” Yixing blinked, fighting the urge to scowl at that response. “That’s not quite what I meant.”

“Then what _did_ you mean?” Sehun asked, his eyebrows furrowing thoughtfully.

“It’s just… Well,” Yixing rambled, clearly struggling on how to phrase what he was thinking. “Does Junmyeon ever talk to you about Kris?”

Sehun frowned. “Not really? I mean, he usually asks me about how my day was, so I ask him in return, and he talks about all the stuff that went on in his lectures, including Kris’, but that’s about it.”

“Nothing more specific?” Yixing asked curiously, tightening his grip on his backpack straps as he and Sehun approached the dining hall.

“No… Why?” Sehun asked, his lips pursing together as he glanced over at his friend. “Did something happen?”

Yixing cleared his throat awkwardly, averting his gaze to instead stare down at his shoes as they walked. “Uh, well…”

Sehun paused then, stopping right there in the middle of the sidewalk. Yixing skidded to a halt almost instantly in response, casting Sehun a perplexed look. Sehun was shooting him a suspicious gaze now. “Okay, seriously, what’s on? You have to give me some answers here.”

“You can’t tell Zitao,” Yixing blurted out immediately. One hand was still clutching the straps of his backpack tightly. “You know how impulsive he is. And you can’t tell Jongin either, alright? I know you guys are super close, but Jongin’s filter isn’t the best, and with him and Zitao being roommates—“

“I won’t tell anyone,” Sehun interrupted. He and Yixing had interacted much more with each other now that the first few weeks of school had flown past. And Sehun knew perfectly well that Yixing could ramble on forever when he was like this. “Just spill.”

“Okay, well, so…” Yixing started, awkwardly shuffling his feet against the sidewalk. “It… It looks like there’s _something_ going on between them. I don’t know what exactly, but…”

“Something like…?” Sehun asked slowly, arching one dark eyebrow in a puzzled fashion.

“I don’t know… But something is up,” Yixing told him, exhaling slowly. “I don’t really know how to explain, and I know you haven’t met Kris before, but… It’s weird. Kris isn’t the touchy type, but he keeps touching Junmyeon—“

“Touching how?” Sehun interjected.

“Like… Hand on the shoulder and a ‘let me help you with your too-long shirt sleeve that’s about to go into your paint’ type of touching,” Yixing babbled, clearly flustered. “It’s _weird_ , especially for Kris.”

Sehun was quiet for a long moment before he spoke up again. “Has Junmyeon said something to you about it?”

“No. He hasn’t mentioned it at all,” Yixing responded, at last releasing his death grip on his backpack straps. “I’m not sure if it’s bothering him or not, but you should see how red his face gets whenever Kris gets too close to him.”

“I can’t say that I blame him, honestly. It sounds embarrassing.” Sehun wrinkled his nose. “Regardless, you know how shy Junmyeon can be. Remember that time in the dining hall and we were all talking about our first kisses over dinner, and Junmyeon’s face turned as red as a beet? And that was just asking him about a _kiss_. Imagine if we had brought up anything more risqué than that.”

The two boys were quiet for a long time, before at last, Sehun sighed.

“Well… Based on what I’ve been hearing from everyone, it sounds like Kris is a bit of a sadist. He’s probably pulling Junmyeon along like that because he knows he’ll get a reaction out of him.” Sehun shrugged. “It’s probably not that serious.”

“Well…” Yixing paused for a second before his shoulders slumped in defeat. “It’s possible, I guess. It _is_ Kris we’re talking about here.”

But even as the two continued to walk, and the conversation fizzled away, Yixing couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something.

* * *

There was a single bar of light squeezing out from underneath the door, spilling out across the old tiles.

Luhan paused outside of the heavy door, his eyes squinting into little slits as he stared at the box of light plastered on the ground in front of his shoes. He then glanced up once more to let his eyes gridlock onto the wooden surface. He scowled. If the light was still on, that meant only one thing: Yifan was still inside.

Not bothering to knock, Luhan took the doorknob into his hand and twisted. With his shoulder braced against the structure, Luhan pushed the door open just enough so that he could poke his head into the room and look around.

One glance at the art professor, who was presently scrunched down in his chair, head tipped back, and fast asleep, was enough to have Luhan frowning in disapproval.

“Kris,” Luhan called in a rather poor attempt of waking the slumbering man. The only response he received was a soft snore, and Luhan’s eyebrows pinched inward just a little farther. He pushed the door open further before shuffling inside. Keeping his hand curled around the doorknob, Luhan tried one last time. “Kris.”

When the man didn’t even twitch at his voice, Luhan proceeded to pull the door open just a smidge wider. And, with every ounce of strength he had, he flung the door forward, and let it go. The resulting _bang_ was nearly enough to make the room shake, practically echoing inside of the small office.

Luhan, still standing near the doorway, couldn’t help but feel satisfied as the noise successfully jerked Yifan awake. Luhan just barely managed to bite back his laughter as Yifan nearly went tumbling right out of his chair because he was so startled from the sudden commotion startling him awake.

“Oh, good! You’re awake,” Luhan commented nonchalantly.

“Luhan, what the _hell_?” Yifan wheezed out, currently holding one large hand over his chest. His heart was beating so fast it felt as if it was going to burst. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Don’t be so overdramatic. Regardless, I had to wake you up somehow,” Luhan replied casually as he strolled across the room, approaching Yifan’s desk.

Yifan scowled as he dragged his fingers through his disheveled hair. “ _You_ try to go through an entire day and teach several classes while running on less than three hours of sleep.”

Luhan arched an eyebrow. “Again? Did you try to take something?”

“You and I both know painkillers stopped working on me a _long_ time ago,” Yifan grumbled dryly as he shifted his weight in his seat. Luhan opened his mouth to say something in response, but Yifan quickly interrupted him. “I’m not going to a damn chiropractor, so don’t even say it.”

Luhan momentarily snapped his mouth shut before exhaling slowly through his nose. “Fine. But either way, we’ve already gone over this. You don’t need to be sleeping at your desk.”

Yifan just grunted as he rubbed one large palm across his tired face, reading glasses pressing uncomfortably against his skin in the process. “Is that why you walked over here? To nag me?”

“I came by to check on you and see if you went home, considering I just finished teaching my night class and it’s nine o’ clock,” Luhan countered. He frowned. “And you’re still here.”

Yifan’s stony expression didn’t change in the slightest aside from the way his eyebrows furrowed together just a little further. “And?”

“And, again, we’ve already talked about this _several_ times. You promised me were going to do differently this semester,” Luhan explained, going so far as to put his hands on his hips, looking much like a scolding parent. “You’re _not_ going to start back letting work take over your life, and you’re _definitely_ notgoing to start back sleeping in your office overnight either.”

“I’m not,” Yifan snapped back grumpily. He thrust his hand in the direction of his bookshelf. There was a single cart parked in front of it, adorned with an assortment of canvases. They were gathered into piles. “I need to finish grading.”

“I understand your pain, but I fail to see how you’re going to grade anything when you’re asleep. Or, ya know, so tired that you’re falling asleep. Just call it quits for tonight,” Luhan suggested. Yifan, still slouched in his chair, peered over the rim of his glasses to watch his colleague wander across the space of his office. Walking up to the cart full of paintings, Luhan spoke again. “Why don’t you just finish them up on Monday during your office hours?”

Yifan wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I want to have them done by Monday. And I’m almost done. I just have six more to go.”

“And then you’ll go home,” Luhan said, his words more of a statement than a question.

“And then I’ll go home,” Yifan echoed, turning his attention back onto the painting that was lying atop of his desk.

Luhan hummed in response to that, his fingers combing slowly through the collection of artwork sitting on the cart. Each piece of canvas had a piece of paper folded in half lengthwise taped to its surface. Luhan already knew it was Yifan’s grading rubric and his list of critiques. Yinfan didn’t speak, currently preoccupied as he was continuing to grade the painting before him, jotting down his commentary on a piece of paper.

Luhan piped up then. “Are these for your intro to painting class?”

Yifan hummed in confirmation, not even glancing up from his papers.

“Oh, sweet. Let me see Junmyeon’s,” Luhan rambled, going back to digging through the piles of paintings. He was flipping them over every time he put his hands on a new canvas, reading the names scribbled on the backs in an attempt of finding what he was looking for. “Come on…”

Yifan paused then, slowly glancing up from his work. “You know him?”

“Who? Junmyeon?” Luhan asked in confusion. When Yifan let out a grunt in response, Luhan nodded his head, arms full of paintings as he drew nearer to the bottom of the pile. “Yeah. He’s in my ancient civilizations lecture.”

Yifan leaned back then. There was a look of puzzlement plastered across his face as he glanced over at Luhan. “Okay… But how did you know he was in my lecture?”

“He told me. He kept drawing during class so I gave him the spiel about ‘don’t draw during my lecture or you’re going to fail, please take an art class instead’. He told me that he’s enrolled in intro to painting, so I asked him who his professor is. He told me it was you, yadda yadda.” Luhan let out a triumphant sound as he found what he was looking for. There was a loud clatter as he unceremoniously dropped his armful of paintings down atop of the others, grabbing the one he wanted in the process. “He said you’re tricky and grumpy but helpful.”

“Tricky?” Yifan’s left eyebrow crawled further up his forehead. “That’s a new one.”

“I don’t think he meant it in a bad way though. More of like…he knows you’re grumpy and he doesn’t wanna say the wrong thing and piss you off,” Luhan elaborated, shrugging his shoulders. “You should feel flattered. He even said he likes your class, and that’s definitely a pretty rare occurrence.”

Yifan scowled. “Can’t you be annoying somewhere else?”

“Nah. You’re more fun to pester.” Luhan was holding Junmyeon’s painting straight out in front of him, studying it with interested eyes. “You know what though? Junmyeon told me he’s never painted before, but this actually looks pretty damn good.”

“He can paint,” Yifan agreed, his voice calm as he put his pen down, fingers now moving to fold his sheet of paper in half. “But he lacks self-confidence. He isn’t going to make it unless he believes in himself. You and I both know that if you’re too afraid to fail you aren’t going to attempt anything new, and then you aren’t going to grow.”

“You _must_ be tired if you’re going to sit here and hand out advice to me,” Luhan chortled out in reply, still busy admiring Junmyeon’s painting. He couldn’t help but take a peek at the piece of paper taped to Junmyeon’s painting. “Man, you gave him a long list of advice. Look at all these bullets! You need to stop nitpicking your kids so much.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m here to teach, advise, and critique,” Yifan said dryly. “I’m not here to coddle.”

“Going easy on someone, especially beginners, isn’t coddling,” Luhan argued, head turning sideways so that he could glance over at Yifan. The professor was refusing to make eye contact with him. Luhan huffed loudly. “Look, Kris, you’re my friend. I love you man, but you need to lighten up. It’s not that serious. It’s just painting.”

_Just painting_. Yifan’s eyes flashed with uncharacteristic anger as his head snapped up to glare over at Luhan from above the rims of his reading glasses. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Luhan didn’t appear to have meant any harm by those words, based on the confusion sprouting on his face. He shrugged his shoulders loosely. “What do you mean ‘what is that supposed to mean’? What I said! It’s just painting, Kris. You don’t need to be so wound up about all this. Anyone can learn how to paint. Some of your kids are going to learn slower than others, and that’s okay! You need to quit taking this so seriously, you know? They’ll learn.”

“I take it seriously because it’s my job,” Yifan practically snarled out. Luhan’s comments seemed to have struck a nerve inside of the professor. “And they aren’t going to work any harder to improve unless I make them.”

“How do you figure?” Luhan asked, eyebrows upturning in a perplexed fashion. “That doesn’t even make any sense. They’re enrolled in a painting class, Kris. They have to paint for your assignments, and the more they paint, the better they’ll get at it.”

“And they’ll keep on painting the same bare minimum every single time. They’ll do just what they have to in order to get a decent grade and that’ll be the end of it. So why is it such a bad thing for me to give my own thoughts on everyone’s work and nitpick in a hope that maybe they’ll actually bother to try _harder_ , instead of giving me basics?” Yifan snapped in reply. “Better yet, why are you, of all people, trying to tell me how to run my class?”

Luhan blinked in shock. “I didn’t mean it like that. But, okay, sure, if that’s how we’re going to label it, then why _can’t_ I give you a piece of my mind about it?”

“Because you don’t know what it’s like!” Yifan cried out loudly, one of his large hands slapping palm-down onto his desk. His cup of pens and markers and paintbrushes rattled. “You teach _history_ , Luhan! Our lectures are nothing alike! Don’t you understand? Your students run on memorization and puke out some answers for your exams and that’s the end of it! My classes run completely different than yours, Luhan, and they need a different teaching style and feedback system. It doesn’t work like a history lecture, whether you like it or not.”

Luhan’s face darkened. “Yeah, well, when the entire campus is gossiping about you, and no one wants to take your class, maybe you need to change a few things. Like your attitude, for starters.”

That comment took Yifan by surprise. The professor blinked a couple of times, before simply closing his mouth, not knowing how to respond to that. And even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, that response _hurt._

“Kris, I’ve known you _thirteen years_ ,” Luhan said then, arms folded across his chest. “And ever since we went to school together, I’ve watched you deteriorate more and more by the year. You know that?”

“I grew up,” Yifan growled out, only to be greeted by Luhan shaking his head at him disapprovingly in response.

“No, you _changed_. There’s a big damn difference between growing up and changing. God, Kris, you used to be so fun to be around! Now I can’t even _talk_ to you,” Luhan sighed out, the anger draining out of him and mixed with an odd combination of pity and sadness. “I know this is going to hurt your feelings. You’re my best friend Kris, but you need to hear it. Honestly, I can see where the kids are coming from. No one wants anything to do with you when you’re nothing but a quiet and stoic grouch all the time. It doesn’t surprise me anymore that no one wants to sign up for your lectures.”

“Well _excuse_ me for not being some bubbly and happy extravert like you!” A sharp pain jolted up Yifan’s spine as he suddenly leapt to his feet, hands braced against the top of his desk. The muscles in his back pulled uncomfortably, painfully. Yifan blocked it out the best he could as he slammed his right fist down onto the desk once more. “We aren’t the same, Luhan! Everyone _loves_ you and your classes, but that doesn’t mean you need to constantly remind me that I’m some conversation piece with a shitty attitude and a shitty teaching style!”

Their friendship had been skating on thin ice for ages now, and it was so painfully obvious as the two professors stood there arguing inside of the office. It was a good thing that it was late, because the men were beginning to scream at each other as they went back and forth. If anyone was around, they definitely would have been able to hear every single word.

“I point it out because I know you can do better than this! You’re better than some pessimistic outlook! How many times do I have to tell you to just pull your head out of your ass and get it together?!” Luhan yelled back. “It isn’t that difficult, Kris!”

“It isn’t that difficult for someone like you because you haven’t dealt with anything that I’ve been through! Your entire damn life has been a walk in the park! Your school days were just the same! I didn’t have the same smooth path as you, and you know that!” Yifan bellowed, succumbing to the anger that had been building inside of him. “You know already how things have been and you still expect me to be some ball of sunshine like you? It doesn’t work that way!”

“It doesn’t work that way because you aren’t even trying!” Luhan screeched. “All you do is stay in your little bubble, Kris!”

Yifan actually _laughed_ at that, nothing more than a dry snort through his nose. “Right. I stay in my little bubble. And you know what I do? I was going to say I do some difficult things, like painting, but, ya know, it’s _just painting._ ”

“You know I didn’t mean it that way,” Luhan growled in response.

“Sure. Neither does anyone else, I guess,” Yifan drawled out as he sank back down into his chair, arms folded over his chest. “I know it’s your whole life, but it’s _just painting_! How hard can it be! Anyone can become a good painter!”

“Will you quit being overdramatic for two seconds?!” Luhan snapped. “I’m trying to _talk_ to you , Kris! I don’t want to stand here and keep arguing with you! That’s all I ever do with you these days is fight, and it’s _really_ starting to piss me off!”

“Then be pissed off. Maybe then you and I will finally have something in common other than going to the same school and living in the same dorm,” Yifan said dryly. “It’d be a nice change to see the always happy smiling optimist Luhan turn into a raincloud every once in a while.”

“Cute. You do realize this type of behavior is just another reason why no one wants anything to do with you, yes?” Luhan ground out, clearly struggling to keep his own temper under lock and key.

“Just chalk it up on the list. It’s like you said: it’s not surprising that no one wants to sign up for my lectures and that no one wants anything to do with me.” Yifan just shrugged, his anger seeming to have melted right out of him now that he had gone through his explosive outburst. The exhaustion was shining in his eyes. “I get that you’re worried. I _get_ it. But you fail to realize, and always have, that I’m not like you, Luhan. We’ve been on two different paths even before we met, and we still are, despite the fact we’re both professors.”

Luhan was silent for a long moment before he at last merely sighed. “I can’t help you unless you let me, Kris, and I sure as hell can’t help you change unless you want to.”

“There’s nothing to change. You’ve said it yourself. We’ve known each other thirteen years. I’m not going to be the same as I was when you first met me, and I don’t have an urge to go back to that. I doubt I could even if I wanted to,” Yifan replied, that same monotonous tone filling his voice again. “Too much has happened since I was a teenager, Luhan. And whether or not it’s a good thing, it is what it is. You said I’ve changed, and I have. You get older and you change. That’s all there is to it.”

“Is there literally nothing in you that wants to be someone else, Kris?” Luhan asked then, his lips pursing together thoughtfully.

Yifan was quiet for a long moment, mulling it over. Luhan could practically see the cogs turning inside his head, and he knew already that Yifan was not going to give him a straight answer. He never did. Yifan had built up so many walls over the past thirteen years that not even Luhan could scale them anymore.

The man really was a completely different person from the teenager he had met years ago.

“In the aspect of change? Not really. I’m far from perfect, but I’m me.” Yifan merely shrugged his shoulders. “And in the aspect of being someone else: who _wouldn’t_ want to be someone else?”

There were so many hidden concepts hiding in the man’s words that Luhan already knew, deep down, he’d never be able to figure them all out. His friendship with Yifan had already grown severely strained since they were younger. He and Yifan had lost their closeness years ago. It left visits like these usually awkward and uncertain; it was plainly obvious the two didn’t seem to know how to interact with one another properly like they used to. And now that Yifan was so entirely different from how he used to be in Luhan’s mind, well, it made things even more uneasy. It was as if every month that went by, Yifan molded into someone new just a little more, and the distance between them grew even larger.

It did scare him a little, knowing that one day, quite possibly one day very soon, their friendship could vanish entirely. The fact that the two of them had already grown apart so severely was already a great foreshadowing to that fate.

“Kris,” Luhan spoke up then, and Yifan merely hummed softly in questioning, not bothering to look at him. “Look. I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t intend on making you upset. I don’t want to argue with you every time I come to visit you. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t,” Yifan mumbled, setting the painting on his desk aside. “I’m not worth the stress. I’m fine.”

“But…” Luhan started again, unsure of what to even say now. “Kris—“

“I said I’m fine,” Yifan repeated, his voice cold. “You don’t need to worry about me. I made it this far and I can make it the rest of the way, whether I’m well-liked or not.”

Well, if there was anything at all about Yifan that hadn’t changed since his university days, that was it: he still hated anyone fussing over him. Luhan merely sighed at that realization, shoulders slumping slowly in defeat. What was he supposed to do when Yifan just didn’t want to listen?

He didn’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 13 Aug 2016


	7. Pattern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _[ PATTERN ]_   
>  _a series of events, objects, or compositional elements that repeat in a predictable manner_   
> 

The first thing that Junmyeon noticed as he staggered into the bathroom the next day was that his skin looked _awful._ Despite sleeping for what felt like centuries, the effects from multiple late nights were right there, manifested as dark circles and tattooed right beneath his puffy eyes. His flesh was decorated with a multitude of pink lines from his pillowcase. And, as he looked closer, he paled in horror. Was that a _pimple_?

He leaned closer to the mirror and squinted at his reflection, before his eyes grew comically wide. It was. Junmyeon glared at the red and ugly bump on his cheek. Great. Just what he needed was for his face to start breaking out.

Still sleepy, even though he had been passed out for nearly sixteen hours, Junmyeon took a long, hot shower. He got dressed, he combed his hair, he brushed his teeth. And as he wandered back into his room and sat down on the edge of the bed, he realized something that he hadn’t noticed when he had first woken up.

Where was Sehun?

Frowning, Junmyeon scooted across the bed and leaned over to pluck his phone off of his nightstand. After a few moments of typing – and quite a few spelling corrections – Junmyeon sent off his completed text.

_Junmyeon (10:12 AM)  
Hey, so, I’m awake! Um. Kind of an obvious statement, but other than me, our room is empty?_

It took a few minutes, but he did, thankfully, receive a text in return.

 _Sehun (10:18 AM)_  
Oh, good, you’re alive. I was starting to think you went into a coma.  
But yeah, sorry. I stepped out.

 _Junmyeon (10:21 AM)_  
I was tired, ok? But I feel better now.  
Where are you? Did you go get something to eat?

 _Sehun (10:26 AM)_  
I’m at a restaurant with Zitao rn. It’s really good.  
All breakfast style foods too btw.

_Junmyeon (10:28 AM)  
They have that here? Where? I’ve never seen it…_

_Sehun (10:30 AM)  
It’s not on campus. I’m downtown rn._

Wait a second. Junmyeon scowled slowly down at his phone as he reread the text several times. Realization slowly began to dawn on him, and there was an awful inkling in Junmyeon’s belly suddenly.

 _Junmyeon (10:37 AM)_  
What do you mean you’re downtown?  
You promised that you and I would go together today and hang out!

 _Sehun (10:43 AM)_  
I know… But you were really tired.  
So I thought I’d let you rest instead.

 _Junmyeon (10:44 AM)_  
But you know that I was really looking forward to this!  
And in the end you just go anyway? Without me?  
And you take Zitao instead of ME?

 _Sehun (10:47 AM)_  
He already knew we were going since we made the plans at dinner, remember?  
So when I told him that I didn’t think you would feel up to going…  
He offered to go. So. I said yeah.  
Don’t worry. I’ll make it up to you. Promise.

Junmyeon’s fingers hovered above the virtual keys of his keyboard, only to let them fall moments later. He didn’t know how to reply to that at all. What _could_ he possibly say to that?

Rereading the past messages, Junmyeon could feel the negative emotions slowly welling up inside his heart. It was a horrible mixture, but he couldn’t help let them crash over him.

The anger came first, hot in his chest. He and Sehun had been planning that outing for a week, and now Sehun just ran off without him, just like that? And to take someone else with him, no less?

Junmyeon was new to the area, for starters. He came from a smaller town; the big city where their university resided was a whole new world for Junmyeon. Not to mention the fact that he often felt like he didn’t get to spend enough time with Sehun, and still didn’t know him very well. Despite sleeping in the same bedroom and eating dinner together, they didn’t have much contact with each other. They weren’t normally home at the same time and their courses didn’t overlap. Junmyeon still knew so _little_ about his roommate. Junmyeon thought that going into the depths of the city together would have been a good idea. They would be able to bond more and Junmyeon would fnally receive his opportunity to see more of his new home that surrounded campus. He had been looking forward to it greatly, but now…

The anger was gone, replaced by sadness in a heartbeat. It hurt _badly;_ how could something like this happen? Sehun could have woken him up before he left or asked him the night before to confirm their plans, but instead he just merely assumed that Junmyeon no longer wanted to go? Was talking to him about it just too much of a hassle? Or was it just more fun to spend time with Zitao than him?

His heart felt as if it had sunken into the bottoms of his feet. He didn’t want to go by himself. For Junmyeon, having another person around to talk to and share the experience with was a major chunk of the fun.

Junmyeon bit his lip as he ran his fingers along the outer edge of his phone case. And after a long mental debate, Junmyeon at last opened his texts to compose a new message.

_Junmyeon (11:05 AM)  
Hey… Just letting you know I’m alive._

He practically drilled a hole through his phone with his eyes as he waited for a text back.

 _Yixing (11:21 AM)_  
Oh good! You were really tired. Glad you slept.  
Are you out with Sehun now?

 _Junmyeon (11:23 AM)_  
I’m at the dorm… He’s out with Zitao.  
What are you up to?

 _Yixing (11:26 AM)_  
Really? Huh. I thought you guys were going out today, but alright.  
Jongin  & I were at the studio doing dance practice.  
We just left actually.  
We’re meeting Jongdae for food & a movie.

That was the end of the conversation. Junmyeon waited for more, he _wanted_ there to be more, but nothing else came. And he officially felt even _worse_. It was as if everyone had plans today except him. He would have loved to hang out with Yixing, Jongin, and Jongdae, but… He couldn’t flat-out ask. He didn’t want to impose. He didn’t want to be an unneeded wheel.

Sighing in defeat, Junmyeon closed out of his messages and tossed his phone aside, before flopping down atop of the mattress on his back. He stared up at the plain white ceiling, unable to help but feel sorry for himself.

Honestly, it felt like he was still in his hometown. He was living in a new place now doing different things, but the lifestyle was starting to feel exactly the same. And it was starting to catch up to him, slowly but surely. The constant days of lectures and schoolwork felt like his old routine of a day job and a night job, just working repeatedly, same old, same old, day in and day out. There hadn’t been any excitement back then either; Junmyeon went to work, he came home, ate, slept, wash rinse and repeat. He didn’t have a social life. And right now, it felt like he still didn’t. It was the same cycle of work, eat, sleep; the only thing that had changed was the subject matter. Instead of an office and a grocery store, he was trapped in lecture halls and his dorm.

He had told himself when he first moved into his dorm that things would be different now, but… Things still felt the same. Repetitive and gray and oddly lonely.

Not that he would ever admit that out loud.

After simply lying in bed for another twenty minutes, Junmyeon forced himself to get up. He wanted to mope, but he knew, deep down, there would be no point. So instead, sighing, Junmyeon clambered to his feet and instead wandered over to his desk. He began to rummage through his art supplies, tugging out his paintbrushes, his easel, his bottles of paint.

At the very least, he could get some work done. He couldn’t afford to fall behind. And really, doing anything at all to block the current situation from his mind sounded like a good idea.

The hours slowly drained away, and Junmyeon lost himself in his work. Aside from momentary pauses to change the music he was listening to, Junmyeon didn’t bother to stop and take a break. He only stopped when his stomach finally demanded to be fed, several hours later at dinnertime, growling at him ferociously.

There was an awful crick in his neck and his back throbbed from being slouched in his uncomfortable chair for far too long. His stomach was too empty and ached, warning him that he really needed to eat something. Stretching his arms momentarily above his head, Junmyeon slid off of his chair and arched his back, trying to loosen up the tightness in his spine.

He paused for a long moment to take a look at his painting. Yifan had mentioned that this project was easier than the last, and that they wouldn’t need as much time. Their paintings needed to be turned in by five PM the upcoming Friday. It was already Saturday night. And as he sat there, studying his work, there was an awful drop of realization in Junmyeon’s belly. He had been working for ages and he had still gotten barely anything accomplished. He was still too slow.

And it was an awful feeling to sit there and study his progress and find absolutely no pride in his work. With it being a monochromatic painting, Junmyeon already knew his color options were limited. He had created a base for his background, filling the canvas a dark red. Several layers later and he had painted the silhouette of his rabbit, big and a pretty pastel pink. Since he still needed to have depth in his creation, Junmyeon was working on making the next layer a tad darker than the previous one. It was still pink, but Junmyeon had mixed in a little bit of red to make it more vibrant, making it easier to tell the layers apart from one another. He still had plenty of details left to go on his rabbit, after all.

But even though this was only the very beginning, Junmyeon was already unhappy with how his creation was developing. Even now, in the earliest of stages, it was as if all his eyes could see were the mistakes. All he could focus on were the way his paint colors sloppily blended together at the edges, the way his strokes could be seen, the way the shape of his rabbit didn’t look _right._

His hands wanted nothing more than to fix everything little thing he could see that was wrong, and Junmyeon already knew, deep down, that until he fixed the errors, his brain wouldn’t allow him to move forward and work on anything else in the painting.

Junmyeon sighed softly to himself, leaning over to wash his paintbrush out in his cup of water. He stared almost helplessly at his canvas. He just wanted to do well. Why was it so hard? And why was it so difficult to just paint something like how he saw it in his head?

Squeezing out the excess water, Junmyeon put his brushes down on a handful of paper towels to let them dry out while he was gone. He took a brief moment to check his phone, deep down hoping that someone had bothered to try to formulate some contact with him.

But of course, there were no messages, no texts, no calls, and Junmyeon tried his hardest not to be disappointed.

He stuffed his phone into his back pocket and gathered his wallet and his keys. Junmyeon was halfway through putting on his shoes as his gaze drifted over to Sehun’s side of the room. Something squeezed deep inside of Junmyeon’s heart, his emotions still a whirlwind of sadness and betrayal and anger, but Junmyeon did his best to block it out.

Merely letting his body sag in a hefty sigh, Junmyeon flicked off the lights and stepped outside, taking only one brief moment to lock the door before he was gone.

* * *

Junmyeon strived to be optimistic. It was something he tried his absolute _hardest_ to do. Junmyeon always attempted to be positive, to look on the bright side, to tell himself that ‘today is a new day, and anything can happen’.

Unfortunately, a new day did not always lead to good opportunities. Sometimes, a new day, a new start, led to nothing but negative experiences and an onslaught of awful emotions.

Monday had been _horrible._

The weekend itself had been uneventful. Junmyeon holed himself up in his dorm room all of Saturday, trying to bounce back from being upset, and to get his painting done. He hadn’t seen Sehun come home at all the entire day. If he had come home after Junmyeon had crawled into bed, he hadn’t woken Junmyeon up. Sunday had not been much different. When Junmyeon woke, the room was still empty. He had actually been getting a little worried that something bad had happened to his roommate. Those worries, however, faded when Jongin texted him around lunchtime, mentioning that if Junmyeon was going out, he needed an umbrella. He and Sehun had walked to the library to study together and had narrowly avoided getting drenched in the rain.

Sunday night was a repeat of Saturday, and Junmyeon, once again, did not see a single glimpse of his roommate. He was woken up at some point in the night, able to hear the sound of Sehun shuffling inside and dropping his bag on the floor, but Junmyeon was too tired to care or comment. He drifted back to sleep, knowing Monday was going to be a long day.

Though honestly, that was an understatement.

In Yifan’s lecture, Junmyeon received his very first graded painting. Yifan had left them all on a cart in the back of the classroom. As he wrote on the board, the class all congregated in the back of the room, rummaging through the assortment of paintings in attempts of finding theirs. Junmyeon, as usual, stood at the rear, fidgeting with his sweater sleeves as he waited patiently.

It wasn’t hard finding his painting. Aside from two paintings belonging to students who hadn’t shown up to lecture, Junmyeon’s was the only one left. And as he lugged his painting back to his desk, he couldn’t help but peek at his graded rubric. For one split second, Junmyeon felt a rush of pride in his blood as he stared at the number scribbled there in red pen. Yifan had given him an extremely high grade on his painting, and for one moment, Junmyeon felt _ecstatic._

But the rush faded as soon as it came as Junmyeon noticed the lengthy list of bullet points written in scrawled black letters. There were _tons._ And instead, Junmyeon felt a wave of confusion suddenly crashing over him as he sank back down into his chair. How did he obtain a high grade if there were so many things he needed to improve on?

And as Junmyeon skimmed over the list, he couldn’t help but feel awfully insecure. There were a few notes where Yifan gave him compliments, but the majority of the things that Yifan had critiqued him on were things that Junmyeon had already felt uncomfortable about in his work. For example, the fact that Yifan said that his blending needed more work, or that his shadows still could be improved. It even drilled down to the smaller details, little things that Junmyeon hadn’t even _noticed_ , but it left him staring at his current painting with borderline fear.

Did his bunny painting have all these issues too?

Part of him was aware of the fact that he was overthinking the entire situation, but now that the seed of doubt had been planted in Junmyeon’s brain, he couldn’t shoo it away.

And it was as if the longer the day dragged on, the worse his doubts became. Along with his painting, Junmyeon also received some work back from other professors. And that included his biology quiz that he had taken last Friday.

The red numbers that showed a failing grade did not help with Junmyeon’s current state of mind.

Aside from Yifan’s class, Junmyeon wasn’t doing well in any of his lectures. This had not been the first quiz he had failed for a class this semester. It made him feel even worse, knowing that despite the fact that he had been studying and doing his best to manage his time, it just wasn’t working. The semester was just getting started, and his grades were dropping to the floor already.

He had been such a good student in high school. What was happening to him?

To top off his Monday, he and Sehun were officially fighting. Junmyeon didn’t _want_ to be stuck in this constant slew of tension and arguments with his roommate, but it was happening, whether he liked it or not.

Junmyeon had leftover pizza in his mini fridge and had skipped out on going to dinner with the others, holing himself up in his room and doing his best to get some work done. He needed to study. He needed to do homework. He needed to paint. It was stressing him out and Junmyeon didn’t even bother to take the time to focus on his food, instead mindlessly stuffing his face as he kept his eyes glued to his textbook.

For the first time over the past few days, he and Sehun were actually home at the same time. Junmyeon still felt somewhat uncomfortable around Sehun, his emotional wounds still fresh from what happened on Saturday. Junmyeon was not the type to try to bottle up his feelings or just let problems build; he wanted to clear the air before it grew worse.

But apparently, that had been a mistake, because the next thing he knew, he and Sehun were yelling at one another.

_“Well excuse me for trying to take your well-being into account!” Sehun snapped at him, throwing his backpack to the floor. “I knew you were tired! What, so it was wrong for me to worry about you and just leave you alone?”_

_“It’s not that!” Junmyeon cried out defensively as he sat in his desk chair. “It’s the fact that you didn’t even ask me! You just assumed I no longer wanted to go, and then you went off with Zitao!”_

_“Was I supposed to go alone then?” Sehun lashed back at him._

_“If you thought I didn’t want to go, you could have not gone. You could have waited until next weekend to go instead. With_ me _, like we agreed on,” Junmyeon replied, eyebrows upturning. “Do you have any idea how badly you hurt my feelings?”_

 _“Over_ what _, Junmyeon?” Sehun asked, exasperated, as he threw his hands up in the air. “I’m allowed to have other friends! What are you so upset about? It’s not the end of the world, and it’s not like there won’t ever be another chance for us to go! You don’t have to be so overdramatic about it!”_

_“I’m not being overdramatic about it!” Junmyeon shouted, eyes watering. “You made me feel unwanted and I’m allowed to be upset about that.”_

_He wouldn’t cry. Even as Sehun stormed out of their room, Junmyeon just wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and tried to focus his attention back on his book, sniffling. He wouldn’t cry._

It was just a bad day, he tried to tell himself. It would get better. Monday was just a bad day. He told himself those words over and over again, repeating them like a mantra in the back of his head. He could do this. It would be okay. It was just a bad day.

He couldn’t help but think back to Yifan, standing outside of the café with his typical scowl plastered across his face and a bag of baked goods in his hand.

_“Everyone starts out like you. A dreamer. Head in the clouds. Full of optimism and sunshine. But you know what? Very few people graduate and stay like you. They change. Dreams die. You get dragged down to earth by your ankles. The realism settles in. And I want you to remember that.”_

He would be different. He could do this. He wasn’t going to change. He was going to be okay.

Junmyeon played it over and over again in his head like some background track stuck on repeat, because maybe if he told himself those words enough, he would believe them as much as he did weeks ago.

The doubt was there, and it was slowly, but surely, beginning to eat him alive.

* * *

On Tuesday, Junmyeon fell asleep in his history lecture. It was not even subtle in the slightest, either. Junmyeon had literally propped his chin up in his hand, elbow on his desk, and had dozed right off. He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep for, but when he woke, the embarrassment was eating him alive. One, because Luhan was giving him a stare of disapproval, and two, because what had woken Junmyeon up was the fact that his elbow had slid off the edge of his desk. He had literally been awakened by his own face smacking against the surface of his desk.

There had been no accidents on Monday, so deep down, Junmyeon was not very surprised that they were following him around on Tuesday. Still, that didn’t make the embarrassment any less prominent.

He was trudging to the art building at the moment, holding his painting in one hand as he moved slowly down the sidewalk. For once, Junmyeon didn’t bother wearing his headphones. He didn’t feel like listening to music. He instead walked in silence, absorbing the murmur of noises surrounding him from the buzz of life on campus. Other students talking. The hum of cars. Laughter. Complaining.

Despite the noise, he could still hear Luhan’s words in the back of his head.

_“Junmyeon, is something wrong?” the man asked as he finished wiping down the board at the front of the room. “You’ve never fallen asleep in class before.”_

_“I’m fine, sir,” Junmyeon said almost instantly, clutching his painting in his hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just tired, that’s all.”_

_Luhan quirked an eyebrow. “Have you been staying up too late?”_

_“Not intentionally,” Junmyeon admitted softly, staring down at his converse sneakers. He missed the perplexed look Luhan was giving him. “I haven’t been sleeping well for some reason. It’s been a little difficult for me to fall asleep…”_

_“Has this started recently for you?” Luhan asked then, and Junmyeon, after taking a moment to think about it, nodded in confirmation. “Junmyeon, I’m not going to pry into your personal life. That is not why I’m here. But, seeing that you are a student, I can make some assumptions. And one of them is that students are under a lot of stress. I can only guess that you are as well. When some people are stressed, they have problems sleeping. Whether or not that is the cause of your new issue, I don’t know, but it is something to think about. Please try to rest. I can let you off with a warning this time, but I can’t give you special treatment. That wouldn’t be fair to the rest of the class. Don’t fall asleep again; it’s one of my biggest rules.”_

Junmyeon sighed to himself as he entered the art building. With his current situation, between juggling his workload and struggling to find a balance, along with his drama related to Sehun, it was no surprise that he was stressed. Junmyeon did not handle stress well, but he was trying his hardest to keep his head above the water.

Holding his painting tightly, Junmyeon wandered down the familiar halls in search of Yifan’s office. With their deadline for their monochromatic painting steadily approaching, Junmyeon wanted to sit down with the man and ask for some advice, because he was still having issues with his painting. Aside from the problems he was encountering with his colors, including that everything was starting to look the same shade of red and pink, he was hitting walls with the finer details as well. For example, the fur. Junmyeon could not, for the life of him, figure out how to make his painting show that kind of texture.

He loved bunnies, but maybe he should have picked something a little easier.

Junmyeon was halfway down the corridor when he noticed that he could hear a voice. It was awfully muffled, but Junmyeon could hear it regardless. Male, it sounded like. And as he grew nearer to Yifan’s office, he realized that the voice was coming from behind the closed door. And Yifan was _bellowing._

Standing there awkwardly in the hallway, staring at the closed door to Yifan’s office in disbelief, Junmyeon couldn’t help but eavesdrop. It was literally impossible not to, because Yifan was shouting, and Junmyeon knew the old doors weren’t the thickest thing in the entire world.

“If you don’t want points taken off, then do what you’re advised to do initially! I told you three times to fix your mistake, and you didn’t bother to!” Yifan was shouting. Junmyeon’s grip tightened on his painting. “So don’t come in here raising your voice at me, because you’re going to get it right back! If you want a better grade, then do better work. If you had done what I told you to do _three times_ then you would _have_ a higher grade!”

Minutes passed, and the yelling continued. Junmyeon could hear a female voice shouting right back at the professor, and he continued to fidget with his canvas. Right when he thought about leaving and just coming back another time, the door to the office suddenly flung open. Junmyeon jumped back, narrowly avoiding being mowed down by a girl that came _storming_ out of Yifan’s office, holding her own canvas in her hands as she stomped away.

If Junmyeon wasn’t mistaken, he could have sworn the girl was crying.

Hesitantly, Junmyeon turned his head to peer into Yifan’s office, now that the door was open. Yifan was, as usual, perched in his office chair, sitting at his desk. He was raking his fingers through his disheveled hair, his normally calm features warped with pure _anger_ as he clearly struggled to calm himself down.

Yifan suddenly glanced up at him and Junmyeon froze, clutching his painting to his chest defensively.

“I—“ Junmyeon started, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to figure out what to say. He quickly ducked his head. “I-I can come back later, if you want. I’m sorry, I didn’t—“

“It’s my office hour. You’re allowed to be here. So don’t apologize,” Yifan interrupted, shaking his head slightly.

“But…” Junmyeon started, biting down on his lower lip slowly. “If you’re upset, I… I can give you some time to yourself. I don’t want to annoy you with my questions, mister Wu.”

“If you’re afraid I’m going to snap at you next, then you’re mistaken,” Yifan drawled out in reply, frustration painting his voice. “Come sit down.”

Junmyeon obeyed then, shuffling into the room and taking a seat in the spare chair that was currently sitting at the end of Yifan’s L-shaped desk. Junmyeon shed his backpack and set it on the floor, watching Yifan’s facial expression carefully. He knew that Yifan had mentioned he wouldn’t yell, but it still made Junmyeon a little nervous, sitting here right after the professor had blown up.

“You look surprised,” Yifan commented out of the blue. His voice was garbled, and he did not seem to care about the fact he was speaking to Junmyeon through a mouthful of donut.

“I… I guess I am,” Junmyeon admitted softly. “Um. I just, well… I’ve never heard you yell. I’ve heard that you yell, but I’ve just never heard it before. I wasn’t really expecting it.”

Yifan just grunted and swallowed loudly, reaching for his coffee. “Now you know. Honestly, if these kids just listened to me the first damn time I told them, they wouldn’t get yelled at.”

Junmyeon was quiet in response to that, not knowing at all what to say. If that last comment meant anything, he could only assume that Yifan was still quite upset. But Junmyeon didn’t want to pry. If Yifan wanted him to know, he would tell them, wouldn’t he?

Yifan just rolled his eyes as he choked down his coffee, setting his mug back down on his desk. Junmyeon absently noted to himself that inside his office, he used a mug; he had only seen Yifan use a thermos during lectures. “Regardless, I’m sure you’re here for something. What do you want to talk to me about?”

“Oh, um… Our painting that’s due on Friday. The monochromatic one,” Junmyeon replied softly, biting down on his lower lip as he offered the painting to his professor. Glasses left perched atop of his head, Yifan reached up to tug them down and over his eyes so that he could see Junmyeon’s work more clearly. “I’m honestly having a really hard time with this one. I’m trying! Honest. It’s just…very difficult. I didn’t expect it to be this hard.”

“You need to be more specific,” Yifan replied instantly, and Junmyeon felt like smacking himself. Right. After speaking to Yifan this many times so far, he should have known better.

He explained his dilemma to Yifan, rattling off how he was struggling with the fur and color variations and layers. Yifan was rummaging through his box of art supplies, trying to find a bottle of paint that he could use to show Junmyeon an example of fur texture.

Head practically shoved in the cardboard box, and still bent in half at the waist, Yifan spoke up. “You do realize you’re severely lagging behind on this project?”

Junmyeon swallowed, eyes falling in embarrassment. “Yes, sir.”

“The deadline is still Friday at 5 PM,” Yifan continued. He was holding a bottle of purple paint in one hand, shaking it up absently as he spoke. “You’re going to work faster if you want to catch up, Junmyeon. This painting of yours has a long way to go, and it’s already Tuesday.”

Junmyeon swallowed. “I’ll have it done. I promise.”

“You don’t have to promise me anything,” Yifan replied as he dragged out a piece of watercolor paper, squirting a small bit of paint onto it. “It doesn’t affect me if you don’t get it finished. It’s your grade.”

“I know, but… I want you to at least know I’m taking it seriously,” Junmyeon replied softly, fidgeting as he sat there, watching Yifan smear the paint around. “I’m really trying, mister Wu.”

“I know,” Yifan mumbled. “You actually try and take my advice when its given. I know you’re trying. That’s something I can’t say for everyone.”

There was a bitterness in Yifan’s voice, and Junmyeon thought back to the girl he had seen moments prior rushing out of Yifan’s office in tears after their shouting match. He was sure that was what Yifan was referring to, but he didn’t want to ask for confirmation, nor did he want to push the subject any further.

Instead, he merely remained silent and listened intently as Yifan began to explain the technique to him. Right now, that was far more important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 19 Aug 2016


	8. Ductile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ DUCTILE ]_
> 
> _the ability to alter a material's shape under tensile stress, such as stretching or pulling_

Throwing himself headfirst into his work was proving to be counterproductive.

Falling behind in his assortment of projects, Junmyeon was beginning to scramble. However, his constant and desperate jumping from one task to another before he even finished the first was, unbeknownst to him, only making matters worse. Junmyeon was slowly but surely digging his hole deeper and deeper without even realizing it. As the assignments piled up, instead of knocking out one thing and then moving onto the next, Junmyeon was bouncing from task to task in hopes he would get more accomplished. It was only slowing him down, but he was so focused on work that he did not yet realize the mistakes he was making. And the nearer that Friday drew, the more that Junmyeon began to panic.

Needless to say, when there was a knock on the door to his dorm room on Wednesday evening, Junmyeon was reluctant to even rise out of his seat to see who was on the other side.

Tugging out his headphones and shuffling across the room, Junmyeon nearly fell flat of his face when one of his slippers snagged some of the dirty clothes he had left on his floor. Thankfully, he managed to make it to the door in one piece, and without bothering to see who was there, he pulled it open. Of all the people in the world for him to expect to be standing on the other side, Zitao was not one of them.

“Hey,” Junmyeon greeted, absently reaching up with his free hand to rub one of his tired eyes. “Sorry, Sehun isn’t here.”

“I know. He’s out with Jongin,” Zitao replied, his eyebrows furrowing together. “I’m not here to talk to Sehun anyway. I’m here to talk to you.”

Downright exhausted, it took Junmyeon’s brain a long moment to process what Zitao had even said. At last, he nodded, opening the door wider so that the other could enter his dorm room. Zitao wandered inside, kicking his shoes off, and he piped up as Junmyeon was in the process of closing the door. “Did a tornado come through your room overnight, or what?”

Junmyeon’s cheeks reddened almost instantly in response. Well, it wasn’t much of an exaggeration. As the days passed, Junmyeon’s portion of the room grew messier and messier. There were clothes and shoes strewn across the floor, and the wood of his desk had completely vanished underneath a disaster of books, papers, and art supplies.

“Anyway,” Zitao continued once he realized Junmyeon wasn’t going to respond. Inviting himself to Sehun’s portion of the room, he flopped down upon the bed, completely making himself at home as he leaned into Sehun’s stack of pillows. “I figured that it would be better to talk to you in person about this than trying to send you a text.”

“About what?” Junmyeon asked, tiredness thick in his voice as he sank down into the chair stationed at his desk. The back of it had become more of a storage rack than anything else, practically overflowing with Junmyeon’s jackets.

Zitao just sighed. “Sehun told me what happened between you two.”

Oh. Junmyeon nodded to show he understood, fidgeting as he shifted his weight uncomfortably on the seat of his desk chair. “If this is about how he went with you and not me, I’m not mad at you. I was just upset and I—“

“This isn’t about me, Junmyeon. This is about you and Sehun,” Zitao interrupted, staring at the older student from his spot on the bed. “I doubt Sehun has told you this since he’s probably putting on the ‘I’m mad so don’t talk to me’ cover, but he really isn’t as peeved as he makes himself out to be.”

Junmyeon’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “I don’t understand. Why are you the one telling me all of this?”

“Because I already know Sehun won’t be the one to tell you. I highly doubt the two of you have even talked about this at all since you got into your first argument. Sehun is stubborn and so are you,” Zitao said bluntly, not even batting an eyelash. “Look, Junmyeon, I get that you felt like he betrayed you and that he hurt your feelings. I get it. But Sehun was just trying to keep your health above all in this, you know? Especially if we add in the fact that you hardly slept up until that day. He’s worried about you.”

Junmyeon’s gaze fell, his fingers toying with one another as he fidgeted. “But I’m fine. You guys don’t need to be worrying about me.”

“Are you serious? Junmyeon, you don’t even go to dinner with us anymore. If you’re not in class then you’re locked up in your room doing even more work. That isn’t healthy,” Zitao pointed out, frowning. “And Sehun has already told me you haven’t been getting nearly enough sleep.”

Junmyeon shuffled his feet, slippers scuffing against the floor. “I’ve been busy.”

“We’re all busy, Junmyeon, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to stop taking care of yourself,” Zitao argued, folding his arms across his chest. “Look, I know you have things to do and that you want to do well, but your health is important. You aren’t sleeping properly, you aren’t socializing, you’re working yourself to death, and if I’m basing this assumption off of the fact we haven’t seen you in the dining hall in _days_ , you’re binging on nothing but fast food. You’re literally killing your body, Junmyeon. We’re worried, and we have a reason to be.”

Was he really that bad? No, no he couldn’t be. He was fine! Just tired, and a bit stressed, but he was fine. Wasn’t he? Junmyeon sighed as he nodded regardless. “I’ll try harder, Zitao. I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you guys worry about me…”

“Good,” Zitao agreed, sliding off of the bed and hopping onto his own two feet. “You can start by coming to dinner with us.”

“Now?” Junmyeon deadpanned, blinking up at the other as Zitao walked closer to his chair, hands perched on his hips. “But—But I have work to do, I’ll go with you guys tomorrow—“

“Nope. You’re coming with us tonight,” Zitao disagreed stubbornly, clicking his tongue. “So either you get up and get your shoes on or I’ll carry you outside.”

“But…” Junmyeon started, voice quiet and rapidly losing its fight. He knew it wasn’t an idle threat. Zitao could lift him easily, and he wouldn’t put it past the younger boy to carry him right out the door. He squirmed in his seat. “But…”

“But nothing. You need a break from working. You’re spending way too much time locked up in your room doing schoolwork and it’s starting to rot your brain. I mean, c’mon, even your shirt is on backwards,” Zitao pointed out, and Junmyeon glanced down then, groaning softly as he realized the other boy was right. “Now get up and let’s go. You need a break and some _actual_ food, not more cheap stuff from the burger joint or wherever it was you’ve been going. Besides, Sehun will be there. You guys can talk like civil human beings and get over this drama.”

“Alright, alright,” Junmyeon sighed out, caving into the peer pressure. Zitao grinned at him, and that was enough to get Junmyeon to move. He took a moment to slip his arms out of his shirt so that he could turn it around to its proper position, before he stood up. He slipped on his shoes and, halfway through putting his wallet into his pocket, he paused to give his math book one last lingering glance. “Zitao?”

“Mhm?” The other asked, his back resting against the wall as he awkwardly tugged his shoes back on. Junmyeon watched him tug awkwardly at the tongue to adjust one of them before standing up straight on his own two feet again.

“Can’t we wait, like…five more minutes?” Junmyeon asked weakly, stuffing his wallet into his pocket. He was so preoccupied with gathering his phone and his keys that he didn’t notice the way Zitao was creeping up behind him with silent footsteps. “I was almost done with this problem, and—“

Junmyeon’s voice peaked into a sharp shriek as strong arms suddenly shackled around him, and the next thing he knew, he couldn’t touch the floor any longer.

“Zitao, put me down!” Junmyeon screamed. Zitao had literally heaved him off his feet and was carrying him like a sack of potatoes across the dorm room. He kicked pathetically, unable to free himself. Zitao was already bigger than him, but it seemed like he was a lot stronger than him too.

“This is for your own good,” Zitao chirped, reaching down with one hand to yank Junmyeon’s keys out of his hand.

He managed to wiggle out of the room and into the hall, carrying the older student the entire time, even as Junmyeon thrashed around in his grip, yelling that he wanted Zitao to let him go. Zitao merely ignored him, having the decency to at least lock the door before he was off, ignoring both Junmyeon’s screeching and the stares of students as they poked their heads out of their rooms to see what the commotion was about.

* * *

Their bedroom was pitch black.

Junmyeon squirmed in his bed, sheets crinkling unhappily beneath him as he tossed and turned. It was almost one AM and he was still awake. However, it couldn’t be said that Junmyeon hadn’t been attempting to go to sleep. He had been trying for the past two hours, but he wasn’t having any success. His entire body felt so heavy and his eyes ached, but he just could not find any rest.

Why couldn’t he sleep?

Junmyeon rolled over once more, grumbling unhappily and sleepily to himself as he did so. His eyes had long ago adjusted to the darkness of the room. He could see Sehun lying in bed across from him, snoring quietly as he remained spread-eagled in the sheets. Junmyeon couldn’t help but feel a smidge jealous of his roommate. He wished he could sleep that deeply. Lately he had been having such a difficult time getting any rest.

He sighed, closing his eyes. Well, at least he and Sehun weren’t fighting anymore. That at least brought him a bit of relief.

_“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon said quietly, fidgeting as he bowed his head, standing in line next to Sehun. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I was upset. I just… I just felt like you had thrown me to the curb. And it hurt my feelings.”_

_Sehun sighed slowly, hands tucked in his pockets. “I guess I was just peeved since I thought it would be good to just leave you alone, and you jumped down my throat. But… I mean… I can see where you’re coming from.”_

_Junmyeon peeked up at him through his red hair. “Are you still angry with me?”_

_“Nah. If anything, I figured you were still mad at me.” Sehun paused for a long moment before he glanced down at Junmyeon. “Are you?”_

_“No! No…” Junmyeon rambled, awkwardly waving his hands in front of his torso in an attempt of being reassuring. “I’m not. I… I’m good.”_

_“So… Is this a truce?” Sehun asked slowly. It was obvious the both of them didn’t quite know how to resolve the situation. He scratched the back of his neck. “We’re okay?”_

_“Yeah. We’re okay,” Junmyeon echoed, corners of his mouth perking up into the tiniest of smiles. “Can you just…talk to me next time, before you make plans like that? Please?”_

_Sehun just nodded. “Next time, yeah. I will.”_

Now if only he could fix his sleeping problems, then things would be nearly perfect.

Junmyeon cracked his tired eyes back open. He felt as if he had been hit by a car, every bone and muscle in his body feeling like it weighed a ton. There was a lingering ache in his neck and back from being hunched at his desk for so long. It was slowly becoming overwhelming; he was spending so much time working and it was as if no matter what he did, he couldn’t keep up anymore. It was stressful and it made him anxious, to lie there in bed, thinking about how much he still needed to do.

Junmyeon sat up. Shoving his blankets aside, he slid over to the edge of the bed. As quietly as he could, he clambered off the mattress and stood up. Sehun didn’t even twitch as Junmyeon slid on his slippers and began to shuffle around their dorm room. He found himself wandering right back to his desk. If he couldn’t sleep, then he would be better off doing something to occupy his mind, right?

Rubbing his left eye with one hand, Junmyeon fumbled around for a moment before at last managing to switch on his lamp. The light burned his eyes and he scrunched them shut instantly in response. After a long moment, struggling to adjust, he pried them open. He glanced over his shoulder to ensure he hadn’t woken up his roommate, and he hadn’t. Sehun was still fast asleep.

Junmyeon, sighing, reached down to pick up his painting off the floor. His monochromatic one was still perched on his desk. Ever since Yifan had returned their projects to them, Junmyeon had stored his on the floor next to his desk, letting it rest against the wooden structure, not quite sure of where else to put it. It wasn’t worth hanging up on the wall, in his eyes, and there wasn’t a ton of storage space in their room anyway.

He grabbed the sheet of paper that Yifan had taped to his canvas, and in one swift move, he peeled it off. Setting the painting back down on the floor, Junmyeon sank onto his desk chair as he let his eyes gloss over the lines of text Yifan had written for him on his graded rubric. He couldn’t help but feel hyper-aware of his potential mistakes as he read over the commentary. He wanted to work harder to fix these things. He didn’t want to make the same mistakes twice. He knew that he was a beginner, but…

The last line of Yifan’s notes left Junmyeon immobile for a long, long moment, rereading it several times with tired eyes.

_‘This isn’t a bad start, but I know you can do better than this. I expect a lot of growth from you this semester.’_

Could he do any better? Junmyeon frowned as he lowered the piece of paper to stare at his unfinished rabbit painting. He was a beginner and he knew that. He knew he needed to work harder if he wanted to create better paintings. But at the moment, Junmyeon honestly wasn’t sure if he could. He had already worked himself half to death on his first painting, and was slaving away at this one, and he still felt like he had such a long way to go. He was already trying his best. What else was he supposed to do?

Sighing, Junmyeon raised his hands and buried his face into his palms. He scrubbed his hands over the expanse of his eyes and cheeks for a moment, trying to get his thoughts together. Things were slowly getting out of hand, and he knew it, deep down. The stress. The tiredness. The never-ending assignments. The doubt. Junmyeon was slowly drowning in it and he knew it. But what could he do?

He was already trying his best.

Lowering his hands, Junmyeon fumbled around as he began to lug out his paint and brushes. If he couldn’t sleep, he may as well try to work. And since the deadline for his painting was steadily approaching – and he still wasn’t close to being finished – he needed to keep going.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He hated his desk chair. It was too stiff, too uncomfortable. He missed his desk chair back at home. Honestly, he missed a lot of things from his home. He missed his bed and how comfortable it felt. He even missed his routine, as bad as it used to be sometimes. Getting up and going to work every day was what had been familiar and engraved into him since he graduated high school. And now, here he was, suddenly on a different path. It wasn’t his routine anymore. It was something brand new, going to class and doing projects and trying to make new friends, and Junmyeon was struggling. He had grown so used to his routine that suddenly doing new things and not being immediately successful at them was draining, physically and emotionally. He did not like failure. But now, he was encountering quite a bit of it.

Was he homesick?

Shaking his head in an attempt of clearing it, Junmyeon merely dragged his painting closer as it sat on its easel, and began to paint.

He wasn’t sure how long he worked. Junmyeon honestly did not even remember falling asleep. But he eventually did, and when he woke, it was daylight. Morning rays strained between the blinds and Junmyeon felt an awful pain in his back when he stirred awake. He cracked his eyes open unhappily, feeling groggy and grumpy and disoriented and wondering why on earth his bed felt so hard.

That was, however, until he realized he was still sitting at his desk.

Sleepily, Junmyeon sat up. He was still gripping a paintbrush in his right hand. He must have fallen asleep at some point while he was working, but he just couldn’t remember when it had happened. A quick glance at his desk showed his painting was still sitting there, safe and sound, on his easel.

Dropping his brush, Junmyeon reached up to scrub at his eyes with his fists. He felt something brush his arm, and he quickly glanced down, trying to determine what it was, only to pause as he realized it was the soft material of a blanket. He recognized the pattern of stripes instantly. It was one of Sehun’s blankets.

Junmyeon twisted himself around in his chair, lips parting as he went to speak, but Sehun’s bed was empty.

Clambering out of his chair felt like such a grueling task. His joints were awfully stiff and his head hurt. He wasn’t sure how long he had slept, but he was sure it hadn’t been long enough. He still felt exhausted. Junmyeon just sighed as he began to fold up the blanket, stepping over to Sehun’s side of the room and leaving it in a neat little rectangle atop of his bed. He may have been a little messy, but it wasn’t his own possession he was fiddling with; it was best to treat it with respect, even if it was just a blanket.

He felt so drained. It was already ten-thirty, and his class with Luhan started at eleven. It was such a challenge to get moving, even though he knew that he needed to hurry if he wanted to make it to his lecture on time. But he just couldn’t gather the energy to get himself going. It was going to be a long day for sure. A long night too, if Junmyeon had to guess. His painting was still unfinished, and it was due Friday evening.

Junmyeon paused for a moment, standing in the doorway as he headed for the bathroom to start getting ready. He glanced over at his shoulder at his desk, taking in the disaster of schoolwork, complete with his incomplete painting. Yifan’s words were a little nagging voice in the back of his head and Junmyeon’s shoulders slumped as he merely swiveled on his heel and headed out of his bedroom.

* * *

Something was wrong. Lecture started at promptly nine AM. Yixing already knew that their professor did not tolerate tardiness, but he had actually been hoping a little that Junmyeon would try to come crashing through the door late. But he never did. The door remained locked and undisturbed, and Junmyeon’s seat beside Yixing remained empty.

Junmyeon had never missed a lecture before. Even when he had been so exhausted he could barely stay awake, Junmyeon had shown up for class. So for the boy’s seat to be deserted, it was quite worrying for Yixing. What had happened for Junmyeon not to show up for lecture? Their paintings were due today too, considering it was Friday. Yifan had given them the outlines for their next project so that they could go ahead and begin on that if their monochromatic paintings were ready to be turned in. If not, they were allowed to continue working on those. Yifan had given his warnings once more that the painting was due at five PM. Yixing wasn’t worried about himself. He had already turned his painting in on the back counter and was starting on their next project.

He was, however, worried about Junmyeon. Junmyeon had been falling behind so badly and now he wasn’t in class at all?

Yixing paused in working on his assignment to check his phone for the umpteenth time. He was rather thankful that Yifan didn’t really care about what his students did; so long as his kids worked, Yifan simply did not care if they used their phones or other electronics. Awkwardly holding his paintbrush in one hand, Yixing began to comb through his texts with his free one. His shoulders slumped in disappoint, however, as he realized Junmyeon _still_ hadn’t texted him back. Was he okay? It was already past ten.

Yixing tried to ignore the bad feeling in his stomach and went back to working on his painting. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t block out the feeling that something bad had happened. When his phone finally vibrated, Yixing jolted so badly in his seat that he nearly went tumbling out of it. Thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed his little blunder, and Yixing fumbled with his phone to try to read his messages. He exhaled heavily in relief as he realized it was from Junmyeon.

_Junmyeon (10:23 AM)  
I’m so sorry, I just saw these. I just woke up… I’m so sleepy._

_Yixing (10:25 AM)_  
You overslept? Junmyeon, you’ve never missed class due to oversleeping.  
You do know our projects are due today, right?

_Junmyeon (10:29 AM)_  
I know, I know. That’s why I’m tired. I stayed up all night working on mine.  
I didn’t go to bed until almost 6 this morning. I feel dead.

_Yixing (10:32 AM)_  
You’re going to wind up dead if you keep staying up late. That’s really bad for your heart, Junmyeon.  
Did you finish, at least? Please tell me you didn’t stay up late for nothing.

_Junmyeon (10:36 AM)_  
I just have one layer left to go to do a couple tiny details, then it’s done.  
I’ll have it in on time, I promise. And I’ll go to bed early tonight too. Okay?

_Yixing (10:41 AM)_  
I’m holding you to that. Please just get some rest. I can see why Sehun is starting to worry about you.  
You’re not taking care of your body well enough, Junmyeon. You’re going to get sick at this rate.

_Junmyeon (10:44 AM)_  
I’ll be okay, Yixing, I promise. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.  
I just need to finish these last few details and then take a nap. And I’ll be all set.

Yixing sighed, shaking his head slightly. Junmyeon was awfully hardheaded. It was almost as if he didn’t want to believe what kind of lifestyle he was starting to fall into, not wanting to recognize how badly he was starting to destroy his body. It was a bad mindset, and Yixing knew it, but what could he do?

To the best of his knowledge, he couldn’t do anything, and he did not like it.

* * *

_“Why can’t you be happy for me?” He crumpled the sheet of white and gold paper between his fingers, his eyes watering. “You know how badly I’ve been wanting to go off to school like everyone else! And now that I got in, and into a good school too, you don’t even care! I worked so hard for this! Why can’t you just be happy for me that I finally get to do what I’ve been dreaming of?”_

_“Why should I be happy for you, Junmyeon? It’s not like you can afford it anyway. Regardless, even if you figure out the finances, what are you going to accomplish?” The man’s gaze was as cold as ice. “It’s not like you have the talent to do anything worth a damn at a university anyway, Junmyeon. Last time I checked, you aren’t good at anything.”_

_“It’s not like you’ve been around to know anything about me anyway! You’re the one who walked out on me,_ and _mom!” Junmyeon screamed, crushing the acceptance letter in his hand. Fat and round tears dripped freely down his cheeks. “And even if you don’t know anything about me, you know damn well I was good at taking care of mom! It’s not like you were ever here to help us!”_

Something was shaking his shoulder.

His world of dreams was crumbling around him, and Junmyeon moaned weakly as he began to crash back into consciousness. It was not a smooth transition either; his head throbbed, his body ached. Junmyeon felt as if he had been asleep for ages, confused and disoriented as he struggled to wake up.

“Junmyeon, get up.” The shaking was getting stronger. Was that Sehun’s voice? Junmyeon didn’t know. It sounded watered down in his ears. “Junmyeon, come on! Isn’t your project due today?”

His project? Junmyeon blearily cracked his eyes open. Sehun was standing above him as he remained curled up in a little ball on his bed, blanket swaddled around him and tucked beneath his chin. Junmyeon blinked up at the younger boy in confusion, exhaustion glazed across his eyes as Sehun scowled slowly.

“Are you even listening to me? Your painting, Junmyeon. Isn’t your painting due today?” Sehun asked, still holding Junmyeon by the shoulder. “I just got home, and your painting is still sitting here.”

_His painting_. Junmyeon suddenly bolted upright as his roommate’s words at last clicked inside his brain. Ignoring his current disaster of a hair style, fibers mussed from sleep, Junmyeon was scrambling as he rushed to put on his shoes and gather his belongings. He looked at Sehun with pure horror scrawled across his face. “What time is it?”

Sehun checked his watch. “Four forty-nine.”

Letting out a string of muffled curses, Junmyeon struggled to tug on his remaining shoe, keys in one hand. He hadn’t bothered to change his clothes or comb his hair. He must have slept through his alarm. He had exactly eleven minutes to get to the art building, and he was downright _panicking._ Hands shaking, Junmyeon snatched up his painting.

“Junmyeon, wait, you might want to take an umbrella. It’s—“ Sehun started, but it was too late. Junmyeon wasn’t listening to him, already bolting out of their room, armed with his painting and his keys, and complete with untied shoes. The door slammed shut noisily behind him and Sehun sighed. “…Raining.”

* * *

Yifan checked his watch for the eleventh time. Five after five, and counting. Yifan scowled at his watch before turning his attention back onto his computer screen. It was odd. Everyone had turned in their assignments for his introduction to painting class except for one person, and that was Junmyeon. Yifan hadn’t been blind to the fact that Junmyeon hadn’t shown up for lecture either.

But the deadline had officially passed, and that was the end of it.

Yawning to himself, Yifan pushed his chair back as he switched off his desktop monitor. He was tired as it was, and he knew if he didn’t go home before sunset, Luhan was going to chew him out all over again. Yifan really didn’t feel like getting another lecture from the history professor.

Due to the fact he had a collection of art supplies at home, the ones in Yifan’s office stayed in his office. As he packed his belongings, Yifan absently reached into the wire basket on his desk and took a brief second to unwrap one of the chocolates there before popping it into his mouth. Yifan worked on gathering both his coffee mug and his thermos, knowing they needed to be washed. He stuffed them down into the backpack he had brought with him earlier that morning, chewing thoughtfully the entire time. Gathering his sunglasses, his wallet, his phone, and, at last, his motorcycle helmet, kept safe and sound underneath his desk, Yifan snatched up his keys. The only thing he hated about riding a bike – other than some idiots he always managed to encounter on the road – was how much of a pain riding in the rain could be. Thankfully he had brought a jacket to work so he wouldn’t get drenched on the way home.

Armed with his backpack and his helmet, Yifan flicked off the lights to his office and slipped out into the hall. Thumbing through his keys, Yifan at last found the one he wanted. He was just beginning to slot the key into the lock when he heard thunderous footsteps rumbling from down the hallway. Pausing for a moment to see what the commotion was about, Yifan couldn’t help but blink in surprise as he noticed that of all the people in the world to see running like that, it was Junmyeon, leaving behind a trail of water in his wake.

“W-Wait!” The boy was out of breath. Yifan was still standing in front of his office door as Junmyeon came full-on _charging_ at him, clutching his painting tightly in his small hands. Huffing and puffing, Junmyeon stared up at him as he held out his painting. “I f-forgot to bring you this earlier… It took me forever, b-but it’s done!”

Yifan stared down at the painting for a long moment before at last letting his gaze rise to stare at Junmyeon’s face.

Yifan had never seen the boy in a state like this before. Junmyeon was always early. Junmyeon was always one of the best-dressed students on campus. Junmyeon was always strutting around with a big grin on his face, pearly white teeth on display, his eyes happily twinkling.

But right now, Junmyeon was a _mess._

Rainwater was literally dripping off of him, a little puddle forming underneath his feet as the two stood in the quiet corridor. He was soaked to the bone, his red hair plastered to his head and already beginning to curl up from the moisture. His usually stylish clothes were gone, replaced with a drenched t-shirt and a pair of cotton sleeping shorts. Junmyeon was panting, his face flushed, dark circles plastered big and obvious beneath his tired eyes. He was shivering, his wet hands desperately clutching the large canvas close to his chest.

Yifan merely blinked at him, his expression unaltered.

“Did you run here?” Yifan asked at last, one bushy eyebrow moving into a perfect arch. His face was unimpressed. “You’re late.”

“What?” Junmyeon deadpanned around desperate gasps. Yifan’s expression was stony as always as Junmyeon fumbled around, holding the canvas with one hand. “No, _no_ , it’s only—“

But as Junmyeon checked his watch, he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he realized Yifan was right. 5:07 PM.

“But—“ Junmyeon started, numbly dropping his arm to his side as he stared at Yifan with desperate eyes. His grip tightened on the canvas, his soaked hands digging into the frame as he shuffled closer to the older man, shoes squelching audibly as he did so. “But mister Wu—“

“But nothing,” Yifan murmured, brushing the other off as he simply turned his attention back to the door, stuffing his gold key into the hole to lock it. “You know one of my biggest rules is that I do not, under any circumstances, accept late work.”

“But—“ Junmyeon began all over again, a hitch in his voice that made Yifan pause. He glanced over at the smaller male, watching as Junmyeon’s eyes began to suddenly fill up with tears. “B-But I worked so _hard_. I worked so _hard_ on this and I was so busy but I stayed up all night to work on it to get it finished and—And—“

Junmyeon bowed his head and let out a sob, shoulders slumping in defeat as he loosened his grip on the canvas in his hands. He looked even smaller than usual as he stood there, audibly crying, his clothing sticking to his skin as water continued to pool on the floor beneath his feet. His bangs were covering his eyes and Yifan felt his stomach drop, because Junmyeon, who always smiled, who always laughed, who always seemed to be in a great mood no matter what, was _crying_.

And it was obvious that Yifan had no idea of what to do.

“Junmyeon, it’s not that big of a deal,” Yifan said awkwardly. It was an attempt of comfort on his part, but he could tell he was not helping. Junmyeon was _bawling_ as he stood there in front of the professor, his grip so loose on his painting it was a wonder he hadn’t dropped it. “There are plenty of other projects this semester that can help you boost your grade.”

“It _is_ a b-big deal! I w-worked so _hard_ and I worked for nothing!” Junmyeon practically wailed back at him, at last dropping his painting. It hit the floor with a soft clatter and Junmyeon was sobbing uncontrollably as he buried his face into his hands, shoulders violently shaking as he began to completely break down. Although Yifan did not know it, Junmyeon had officially cracked under the pressure. Weeks of stress and sleepless nights and self-doubt had finally built up to a point in which Junmyeon could no longer handle it. “Y-You were right, okay? I was in o-over my head and I—I t-thought I could do this, b-but—I— I c-can’t. I can’t do it. I can’t even turn in my work on time! I c-can’t do anything right!”

Yifan stood there for a long moment, unsure of what to say. Junmyeon was completely bawling his eyes out, hiccupping and sobbing into his hands as he stood there shivering from the cold. He looked so tiny and pathetic in Yifan’s eyes. And the longer he stared, the more he felt something soften up inside of him. Pity, perhaps. Yifan didn’t know. But he understood. He had been a freshman too, once upon a time, just a kid surrounded by a new life and responsibilities, just like Junmyeon was now.

Sighing softly and slowly, Yifan bent over, albeit with difficulty, to pick up Junmyeon’s painting.

“Junmyeon,” Yifan commented then. It took several more attempts to get the boy’s attention, as Junmyeon was so wrapped up in his breakdown that he didn’t hear a word Yifan said. At long last, he had some success. Junmyeon finally lowered his hands enough to peek up at him. His eyes were turning red, his eyelashes just as wet as the rest of his body, tears running in uncontrollable rivers down his cheeks. “I want you to listen to what I’m about to tell you very carefully. Do you understand?”

Junmyeon, hiccupping weakly, nodded just once.

“Look. I’ll accept it. _Just_ this once, I’ll accept it. You won’t be getting another chance. If your work is late again, I’m not going to take it. Do I make myself clear?” Yifan asked, and Junmyeon nodded again, lower lip wobbling pathetically as he tried to bite back his sobs so that he could listen clearly. “Now. Obviously, you’re in distress. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you need to get help, Junmyeon. I am a professor, not a therapist. My office door is not open to have kids trickling in to tell me their problems, otherwise I’d be here all day. However, when something is clearly bothering you to this extent, I try to be more lenient.

“I’m not going to force you to talk to me. I am aware of the fact that you probably don’t _want_ to talk to me, and that’s fine. I don’t care if you don’t want to. We have a counseling center for a reason.” Yifan pushed his office door back open and stepped inside for only a second to store Junmyeon’s painting inside. When he emerged, he had a few tissues in his hand, and he handed them over to Junmyeon, who had, by some miracle, managed to stop crying. “However, I do know that for some kids, counseling is not easy. Trust me. I know. Again, this is one reason I offer the option of talking to me if you’re having this hard of a time with something.”

Junmyeon sniffled weakly, wiping his eyes with one of the tissues before noisily blowing his nose.

“Mister Wu?” He hadn’t cried in so long, and now he just felt exhausted. Cold and stressed and exhausted. Junmyeon sniffed again. “Why… Why are you helping me?”

“I’m still human, Junmyeon, regardless of how people here label me. It gets depressing, watching kids vanish off campus, and sometimes off the face of the earth, because they felt like they couldn’t talk to anyone. And like I said, I know some kids don’t want to see a counselor, for whatever reason.” Yifan just sighed. “Look. I’ll give you the same options I’ve given the other students I’ve seen have this level of distress. You can either discuss this with me, or you can see a counselor. Those are your two choices. And don’t try to feed me the ‘I’m fine’ nonsense, because I know better, Junmyeon. I’ll be on campus tomorrow at noon. I’ll see you in front of the library. And if I don’t, you’ll be seeing the front of the counselors office. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Junmyeon croaked, voice hoarse from crying. There was an odd warmth spreading over his ribcage as he watched Yifan lock up his office. He knew Yifan was only doing it as a professor. He had already admitted that he had done it for other kids who had broken down in his presence. Regardless, it felt good, in a warped way, that someone cared, even if they were only caring because they had to. It still counted. “Mister Wu, I… Thanks.”

Yifan merely grunted in response as he yanked his key out of the lock. “Just go home and shower and change your clothes before you get sick. The last thing I want to hear is you coughing nonstop during class.”

Despite it all, Junmyeon couldn’t help but smile the tiniest amount in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 29 Aug 2016


	9. Identity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ IDENTITY ]_
> 
> _the characteristics that determine one's self_

His black and white converse sneakers were silent against the ground.

Junmyeon sighed softly to himself as he made his way down the sidewalk, headed for the library. A large portion of him still couldn’t believe he was actually traveling across campus in order to meet his professor, and on a Saturday no less.

Regardless of what day it was, Junmyeon couldn’t wrap his brain around the fact that he was going to meet up with his teacher outside of class. If it was for something academic-related, maybe he wouldn’t feel this odd about it. After all, he hadn’t really heard of too many cases where students just went to hang out with their professors. Was it weird that he was going to meet Yifan? He knew it was just to talk about his – in his opinion – rather embarrassing mental breakdown that he had outside of the man’s office. It still felt a little strange to him.

He was thankful that Yifan had decided for them to meet up at noon. After his meltdown yesterday, Junmyeon had walked back to his dorm, showered, eaten one of the snacks he had stashed away under his bed, and, after doing his best to brush off Sehun’s concerns, he went back to sleep. He slept for ages; he was sure if Yifan had wanted for them to meet any earlier, he would have missed it. He had to rush as it was to make it on time to their noon plans.

Heading across campus, Junmyeon let his brain wander. Sehun hadn’t been home when he had left, so there was nothing to worry about or explain there. But he couldn’t help to think about the possibility of Sehun already being back in their room when Junmyeon returned. What was he supposed to tell his roommate if the boy asked where he was? Junmyeon didn’t want to lie, and he didn’t really have anything to hide, but after he had learned about how his friends viewed Yifan, he wasn’t sure if telling them that he had met up with the professor outside of class was such a good idea. He really didn’t want to hear more gossip.

With it being the weekend, there were students out and about, wandering around and trying to spend more time with their friends. Junmyeon was merely a passing shadow for them, nothing more than something blended into the background of their own little worlds. But Junmyeon didn’t mind. He merely kept walking, eyes drifting as he moved, for once trying to slow down. The world these days seemed to move much too fast, after all.

After the torrential downpour that had happened yesterday, the skies were presently filled with clouds. There was not a call for rain, just for an overcast day, and Junmyeon was thankful for that. He didn’t feel like getting drenched all over again. He was already going to be lucky if he didn’t wind up with a cold from getting soaked yesterday.

As he approached the library, Junmyeon’s gaze began to dart, trying to locate the professor. Yifan hadn’t mentioned where his location would be, just that it was going to be in the front of the library. But there were several tables set up outside and Junmyeon wasn’t sure if Yifan had decided to pick one of them or not. After all, it was possible Yifan had instead decided to sit down on a nearby bench.

Despite all the possibilities, locating Yifan wasn’t actually that difficult. As he drew nearer to the library, Junmyeon could see him perfectly, the professor seated alone at a table beneath the overhang. Reading glasses perched, as usual, on the bridge of his nose, Yifan seemed to be in his own world. His eyes were downcast as he played around on his phone. There was a small white cup of what Junmyeon could only assume was coffee sitting abandoned beside his arm, along with his motorcycle helmet. He was so engrossed with what he was doing that he never even realized Junmyeon had approached the table to join him.

 Feeling suddenly nervous, Junmyeon cleared his throat in an attempt of snagging the man’s attention. “Mister Wu?”

Yifan’s head rose immediately, peering over the rim of his glasses to find Junmyeon standing before him. With his hands empty, Junmyeon had nothing to fiddle with to keep his fingers occupied, so he had resorted to fidgeting instead. If Yifan noticed, he didn’t show it.

Instead, he glanced back down, taking a second to check his watch before letting his gaze focus back onto the student. His face was unemotional as he spoke. “Well, you managed to make it on time today. That’s a good start.”

Junmyeon’s cheeks burned red instantly. “I’m still _really_ sorry about that—“

“It’s said and done now, Junmyeon. There’s nothing left to apologize for,” Yifan interrupted calmly. His head tipped ever-so-slightly to one side, face stoic as always. “I’m surprised. I didn’t expect for you to show up.”

Well, the surprise definitely didn’t show on his face. Aside from tiredness and anger, Junmyeon couldn’t recall a time where Yifan had let emotions rise to the surface. He decided not to comment on that, knowing it would only come out as insult, and he didn’t want to offend the professor.

Instead, Junmyeon just nodded once, shuffling his feet slightly against the concrete. His voice was soft. “Honestly, I’d rather talk to you than a counselor.”

He had already had enough of that. Junmyeon was not ashamed to admit he had been seeing a therapist before he began university. Life was hard, and he needed someone to talk to. Perhaps he just didn’t have the right therapist for him, because Junmyeon never really felt any better. Sure, he felt okay at that very moment, talking about how he felt or what was going on, but it was as if as soon as he walked out of the building and went home, he crashed. He never seemed to get any better. And eventually, going to therapy became more of a _why bother_ in his eyes.

He didn’t want to deal with that again.

“I can understand that,” Yifan replied calmly, still holding his phone in one hand as he remained perched in his seat. “Just be aware, Junmyeon, I’m not going to force you to tell me anything.”

He already knew that Yifan was not the type to dig too deep. Perhaps that was one reason why Junmyeon was alright with discussing the topic at hand with the man. And despite Yifan’s cold appearance, Yifan had never shut him down. Yifan had always been open to helping him with his projects and listening to whatever Junmyeon decided to babble on about. He seemed so harsh and mean, but… Junmyeon didn’t think so.

“I know,” Junmyeon finally said, and, with one hand reaching out to balance against the tabletop for balance, he made a move to sit down across the professor.

And instantly, he froze as a borderline _rumble_ suddenly emitted from his stomach. Junmyeon’s cheeks flushed in a heartbeat, and they only darkened as he realized that Yifan had heard it, based on the way the man’s left eyebrow inched higher onto his forehead.

As Junmyeon continued to stand there, stock-still with shock and embarrassment, Yifan piped up from his seat. “You haven’t eaten yet? It’s noon.”

“I haven’t,” Junmyeon confessed, trying and failing to will away the heat in his face. It didn’t help that his stomach wouldn’t shut up, still protesting, though thankfully not nearly as loud. “I, uh… I slept in pretty late today, and I didn’t really have time to grab something before I came over here.”

Yifan just hummed. “That makes two of us.”

To Junmyeon’s surprise, Yifan suddenly heaved himself to his feet. The man stepped away from the table, grabbing his white coffee cup. He took a moment to tip his head back to finish it off before moving to the nearby trashcan to toss it. Junmyeon couldn’t help but let his eyes flick up and down for a second, internally heaving a sigh of relief as he realized Yifan was dressed decently. Thankfully, there was no sign of the dragon t-shirt or lime green shoes. Yifan actually looked oddly different when he was dressed like how he was presently, his body hidden beneath a plain dark red shirt, a black leather jacket and matching black ankle-high boots, and a pair of jeans. He seemed oddly more put-together this way, and the man’s aura seemed oddly different than usual.

“Well,” Yifan started, having walked back to the table now. He took off his glasses, and gathered his phone. Junmyeon watched him tuck both items into a pocket sewn along the inside of his jacket. He then grabbed his motorcycle helmet. “Let’s get going. We can talk over food.”

Junmyeon couldn’t stop himself from stumbling over his words as he spoke up. “Where are we going?”

“Considering the food around here is overpriced and mediocre at best, somewhere off campus,” Yifan said, seeming oblivious to Junmyeon’s newfound stress. He was already beginning to walk away, lumbering down the steps situated at the front of the library. Junmyeon was scrambling to catch up to him. “There’s an excellent burger place downtown, if you’re into that.”

“Mister Wu, I—Wait a second,” Junmyeon babbled, following Yifan down the brick steps. The professor paused, glancing over his shoulder, still cradling his helmet in one arm. Junmyeon’s face was pink. “A-Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Yifan blinked twice, before his full lips pursed together as he seemed to understand what Junmyeon was hinting around about. “This isn’t high school, Junmyeon. It isn’t considered an embarrassment to be seen in public with a teacher. A little uncustomary, perhaps, but it isn’t something to be ashamed of. Regardless, I’m starving, and you’re starving. Now let’s get moving before everything winds up packed.”

Junmyeon opened his mouth to say something else, but wound up merely closing it seconds later. Yifan was already walking ahead of him again and Junmyeon, once more, hurried to keep up with the man’s long strides. He couldn’t help but bite his lip. It wasn’t odd that he was literally about to go eat lunch with his professor? He knew the university environment was not the same as the one that lingered in the walls of a high school, but Junmyeon couldn’t help but feel a little weird about the entire thing. He didn’t mind the idea itself, and food sounded wonderful at the moment, but… What if someone he knew saw the two of them together? Junmyeon treasured his image greatly. People loved to gossip about Yifan; who was to say if someone saw them, that they wouldn’t start gossiping about him too?

That one possibility probably scared him the most out of them all.

It was silent between the two of them as Yifan led him around the back of the library. They traveled down the sidewalk, side by side, in the direction of the faculty parking lot. Junmyeon felt grossly tiny next to Yifan. The man was so _tall_ compared to him. Yifan was usually sitting down whenever Junmyeon popped into his office; it was hard to realize sometimes that Yifan was so big because of that.

The two of them trekked across the parking lot. Junmyeon kept close to Yifan, unsure as to where the man was taking him, but then he spotted it: a lone motorcycle. He couldn’t help but notice that Yifan was parked several spaces away from anyone else, isolated from other vehicles and having pulled through his parking space so he wouldn’t have to deal with backing up later.

“Is this one yours?” Junmyeon asked then, breaking the silence as the two of them approached the bike. Yifan hummed in confirmation, holding his helmet underneath one arm. Junmyeon moved closer then to get a better look. Junmyeon didn’t know a single thing about motorcycles, aside from where the throttle was, but the one Yifan owned was oddly stunning. Sleek and spotless, it was colored mostly black, streaks of red stylishly decorating its surface. He smiled a little, bending at the knees so he could inspect the tires more closely. “It’s very nice… How long have you had it?”

“I’ve been riding since I got my license back when I was a teenager. I haven’t had this bike long though, maybe five years now,” Yifan replied quietly, standing behind Junmyeon as the student studied the motorcycle with curious eyes. He couldn’t help but release a small snort as he noticed how Junmyeon kept raising his hand, like he wanted to touch, only to drop it moments later. “It isn’t going to bite you, Junmyeon. You can touch if you want.”

“I know I’ll leave fingerprints though if I touch it,” Junmyeon said softly, though he couldn’t help but reach out and gently touch the framework. “This is so cool. I don’t think I’ve ever been so close to a motorcycle before. How exactly…?”

“Does it work?” Yifan finished, amusement lining his voice. He stepped closer, still holding the helmet under his arm. He rapped his knuckles on the chrome pipe near the back tire. “Well first of all: exhaust.”

Junmyeon jumped slightly as Yifan’s foot suddenly swung outward, coming to gently rest on a small lever near the bottom.

“Rear brake. This here,” Yifan’s boot shifted over, tapping against a silver piece next, “is the footpeg.”

“I… I don’t know what that means,” Junmyeon said slowly, big eyes blinking up at Yifan in confusion.

“It just gives the rider somewhere to rest their legs while they’re driving. That’s all.” Yifan took a step backwards. He fiddled around for a second before folding down a similar part near the back tire. “One back here for a passenger too. They fold up when they’re not in use.”

Junmyeon swallowed, suddenly all too aware of the fact he was going to be perched on the motorcycle in a few minutes, with his feet stationed right there on that little piece.

Leaving the passenger footrest down for Junmyeon, Yifan circled around to the left side, and Junmyeon followed him. There were two more pegs, not to Junmyeon’s surprise.

“Kickstand, so it doesn’t tip over,” Yifan told him, squatting down so he could point things out to Junmyeon better. His fingers then grabbed onto a small lever not too far above that. “Gear shift. How many clicks you have total depends on your model. If you need to change gears, here’s your clutch.”

Junmyeon glanced up in time to see Yifan grabbing a lever at the top left side of his handlebars. Junmyeon stepped closer to get a better look. Yifan explained that the lever on the right hand side was the front brake. Yifan pointed out how to work the lights, where the ignition was, how to work the turn signals. And the next thing he knew, Yifan was suddenly turning towards him.

“Here,” Yifan said, and Junmyeon blinked in surprise as the black motorcycle helmet was suddenly shoved into his chest. His small hands hesitantly accepted the offer, glancing up at the older male in a puzzled manner. “I only have one helmet, and I’d rather you wear it.”

“But…” Junmyeon frowned, hugging the helmet close. “But what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll survive. A helmet is best but a pair of dark sunglasses can still work in this type of situation.” Yifan’s lips twisted to one side. “It isn’t going to be the best for you, considering it’s customized to fit my head, but it’s better than nothing. Do you know how to put it on?”

Junmyeon blushed almost instantly in response, his pale skin flushing bright pink. He stared down at the helmet, his hands looking awfully tiny as they held onto it tightly.

That, for Yifan, was proof enough.

“Let me see it.” The man sighed, stepping closer to take the helmet away. Junmyeon glanced up to see Yifan tugging at the straps protruding from the bottom of the helmet, holding them in place so they wouldn’t fall back inside. “Don’t move.”

That was the only warning Junmyeon received before Yifan began to slide the helmet onto his head.

It was a tad difficult for a moment, as Junmyeon just stood there, unsure of what to even do to help. He was positive his stiffness was not making a smooth transition in the slightest. But after a second of struggling, Yifan managed to slide the helmet down over Junmyeon’s head. He felt borderline claustrophobic inside of it, as Yifan owned a full face helmet; the material completely covered his skull and didn’t stop until the bottom of his jaw. Yifan had left the shield up for him so that Junmyeon could hear him clearly.

“Tilt your head back a bit,” Yifan instructed, and Junmyeon obeyed, unable to help but jump as he suddenly felt Yifan’s fingers brush against his throat. An odd heat blazed across his skin almost instantly from the man’s touch, and Junmyeon shuddered inside of his clothes as he tried to hold still. He could feel Yifan tugging on the straps, but he couldn’t see what he was doing. “Need to tighten this up for you. I hate these damn rings.”

Yifan finally let go and straightened himself up. Junmyeon jumped slightly as Yifan suddenly reached out with one hand and placed it on top of the helmet. He attempted to wiggle it, but when it didn’t shift, padding and chin strap keeping it in place, he let out a hum of satisfaction.

“Good. Hard part is over. Glad you wore a jacket, lightweight or not. Gives you more protection.” Yifan suddenly turned away from him and, with ease, swung his leg over the motorcycle, successfully mounting it. “Alright. You’re up.”

Junmyeon was certain he could feel all the color draining out of his face with newfound nerves. He shuffled closer to the motorcycle, staring at it with hesitant eyes. It took three attempts, as the first two he didn’t raise himself up high enough, but on the third, Junmyeon managed to heave himself onto the bike. His fingers instantly shot out and fisted into the back of Yifan’s jacket in a panic, as he felt too high up and too off-balance and he was already borderline panicking and they weren’t even moving yet. He gulped, quickly scrambling to put his feet on the pegs designated for him.

“Don’t let your leg touch the exhaust, by the way. It’ll burn the hell out of you,” Yifan warned, twisting himself around, just enough to see Junmyeon. The teen swallowed as Yifan’s hand extended towards him. “And I’d recommend finding something to hold onto once we get out of this parking lot so you don’t fall off.”

Yifan’s fingers flicked the shield down, and Junmyeon was officially completely enclosed inside of the helmet.

He had to admit, he was scared. He hadn’t been at first, but he definitely was now. Sitting behind Yifan, he gulped nervously as he heard the sound of the motorcycle roaring to life underneath him. He could see the man shifting slightly as he pulled a pair of shades from the depths of one of the interior pockets of his jacket. And then, the professor put the motorcycle into gear, and Junmyeon was trying his best not to panic as they began to move.

It wasn’t that bad at first. Junmyeon managed to stay calm as Yifan easily pulled out of his parking place and made his way to the exit of the faculty lot with ease. While Yifan waited quietly at the stoplight, feet planted on the ground to keep the bike – and the two of them – upright, Junmyeon took a moment to suck in a deep breath.

And as soon as the light turned green, the sheer panic bled into Junmyeon’s veins. Taking the first turn was already scary enough, as Junmyeon was worried half to death about the possibility of them flipping over. But that thought process quickly fled his mind as Yifan made it out onto the main road, and gave the bike more gas, throttle clutched in his hand. In a heartbeat, they were picking up speed, and Junmyeon instantly dove forward, locking his arms in a complete death grip about Yifan as he _screamed_. He had his arms locked tightly about the man’s waist, fingers digging into Yifan’s stomach, the helmet smacking harshly against Yifan’s back as Junmyeon attempted, and failed, to bury his face into the back of his leather jacket.

Too preoccupied with his newfound fear, Junmyeon never noticed the way the back of Yifan’s neck turned red.

* * *

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you eat anything other than a donut.”

Yifan blinked, glancing up from his food to scowl across the small table at Junmyeon. The teen was grinning at him, cheeky and amused. Yifan merely let out a snort as he lowered his gaze again, presently dipping one of his fries into his milkshake. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious, though! That’s all I’ve ever seen you eat. I was starting to think you were like intolerant to everything _but_ donuts.” Junmyeon laughed softly as he took another bite of his grilled sandwich. “Or just like sweet things. Why do you think I got so surprised when you tore into your burger?”

“What can I say? I was hungry,” Yifan practically grumbled in response, popping the now coated fry into his mouth. “I eat more than just donuts. They just have a really good taste. That’s all.”

“So they’re basically your weakness?” Junmyeon offered, his voice teasing. Yifan gave him that _look_ again, unamused and cold as his thick eyebrows remained drawn up over his eyes. Junmyeon just laughed as he bit into one of his fries. “I’m just joking, don’t worry.”

Yifan just hummed in response, attention already straying away from Junmyeon as he went back to sucking down his milkshake at a rather impressive rate.

“I, ah…” Junmyeon continued, seeming unsure of how to proceed. He licked a bit of ketchup off of his thumb, his eyes downcast as he spoke. “I just wanted to say thanks. You know, for this. The food is really good here.”

“Like I said, the closer you get to campus, the more mediocre it gets. The café I go into every now and again sells pretty good sweets, but aside from that, I don’t really go anywhere on campus anymore,” Yifan replied, shrugging his broad shoulders loosely. “Better for my wallet and my taste buds and my waistline if I just bring something from home.”

Oh. That must have been what Yifan had bought that one day and carrying in his bag when Junmyeon had bumped into him on his morning jog. Junmyeon didn’t comment on that though, merely nodding in response. Yifan didn’t say anything else, and Junmyeon wasn’t at all surprised by that. Yifan was definitely not a chatterbox, and Yifan did not force him to talk. Yifan still hadn’t even bothered to ask about his complete meltdown outside of his office, and the wait was honestly eating Junmyeon alive. It was like an unbearable pressure lingering in his chest, and he needed to get it out.

“Mister Wu, I…” Junmyeon shifted his weight uncomfortably on his padded chair. “I’ll…be honest with you. I… I’ve been thinking about dropping your class.”

Yifan was almost instantly choking on one of his fries. Coughing loudly, and earning a few concerned glances – and another assortment of dirty looks – from the other patrons, Yifan pounded his own fist into his ribs as he finally managed to breathe properly again. He stared across the table at Junmyeon, his dark eyebrows upturned and eyes watery from his coughing spell. “You _what?”_

“I’m sorry! I just… I… I don’t think I’m cut out for it,” Junmyeon said quietly, staring down at his food. He was absently swirling the tip of one of his fries into his little slab of ketchup that was lingering on the side of his plate. “I’ve been thinking about it for a couple days, and I just… I think things would be better if I just dropped the course.”

Yifan scowled, food forgotten as he stared across the table at Junmyeon. “Is that what yesterday was about?”

“No! No—I—Well—“ Junmyeon stuttered, sighing in frustration as he let his hand drop into his lap. “I guess that it’s part of what happened yesterday. It was mostly stress, I think. And exhaustion. I haven’t been sleeping a whole lot lately.”

Yifan leaned back in his chair and pursed his lips together, looking highly unimpressed. “So what? You get stressed and decide to quit? This mindset isn’t like you, Junmyeon.”

“It’s complicated,” Junmyeon whispered, biting his lip as he kept his head down, practically talking into the surface of the table. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” Yifan snapped, his voice acidic. Junmyeon shrank down into his seat, feeling awfully tiny right then. He could feel Yifan’s eyes drilling right into him, boring through his skin and down into his very core. “I’m older than you, Junmyeon. I’ve dealt with a lot of things in my lifetime.”

Junmyeon hesitantly peeked up at the other through his red bangs, and instantly regretted it. Yifan’s gaze was cold and unforgiving. He could tell just how serious the other was right now, and it made him feel even smaller than he already did. He swallowed harshly, instantly looking down again, unable to face the man’s eyes any longer.

It was the first time he had ever told _anyone_ his story, and his voice was already threatening to crack.

“I’m an only child. When I was younger, I never knew exactly _what_ I wanted to do, but I knew that I wanted to off to a university and everything. That was my plan. When I got into high school, things…changed. A lot of things changed,” Junmyeon said quietly, wringing his hands together in his lap. “Long story short, my dad pretty much walked out on me and my mom. There was a divorce, a messy one, all of that. It happens. I know that. But it still hurt.”

Yifan didn’t say anything, and Junmyeon didn’t have the courage to look up at him to see if he was still listening. He didn’t want to face his gaze again.

“After the divorce… My dad… He didn’t try to keep in contact with either of us anymore after that, really. He called me every now and again to see if I was alive, but that was about it. He never talked to my mom after he left.” Junmyeon exhaled shakily. “So when I was about to graduate from high school, my mom… She got sick. Really sick.”

“Let me guess,” Yifan commented then, “your dad wanted nothing to do with it.”

“Yeah. I mean… I told him. He wouldn’t talk to my mom at all after the divorce, so I talked to him. I told him what happened, what was going on, that we needed help, and… He basically just told me ‘that’s too bad’. He wanted nothing to do with it,” Junmyeon said softly. “I had a chance to go off to school. There was even a place offering me a full ride scholarship. And I… I didn’t take it. I stayed in my hometown and started working instead. I hated those jobs a lot. I hated working in an office and I hated working in a grocery store but I needed the money. My mom couldn’t work anymore because her health took that bad of a plunge and the doctor visits and medications weren’t going to pay for themselves.”

Yifan was silent, and it somehow made the pressure in Junmyeon’s ribcage even more painful.

“She didn’t make it. I worked so _hard_ for over two years and she didn’t make it. I just… I felt so _bad_ , you know? What if I had done more for her?” Junmyeon swallowed, throat visibly bobbing. “And I… I know this is going to sound bad, but… Back then, and even now every once in a while, I just… I just wish so badly something terrible would happen to my dad. My mom suffered so _much_ and he didn’t do a single thing to help her.

“And my mom… She suffered so much but she always tried to be happy. She always taught me to try to be optimistic about everything. She always said ‘it could be worse’, and—It _did_ get worse and it got worse and worse and I kept thinking to myself, how bad will it get before it goes away? And then she died. And that was it. It got worse and worse until she dropped dead, and—“ Junmyeon let out a hiccup, tears threatening to spill over. “And I just—I know it’s bad, but I really—I—I hate him so much for what he did to us. Things could have been different. I’ve tried really hard since then, I _really_ have. My mom always told me to follow my dreams, and I’ve been trying to. I got into a university now at twenty and… It’s… It’s not like how I dreamed it would be.”

Their server had paused for just one second to slide their bill onto the table, and quickly scurried away, noticing how Junmyeon was nearly in tears, and how angry Yifan looked.

“My dad wants me to join his business back home. I don’t know what I want to do, but I don’t want to be a businessman. He wasn’t happy for me at all when I got into a good school. Told me I wasn’t good enough and that I can’t afford it anyway, that I’m wasting my time.” Junmyeon’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I’m… I’m starting to think he was right. I can’t even keep up with my work. I’ve been failing everything. I can’t sleep. I’m stressed. I don’t want to drop out of school, but… Maybe I’m just…not cut out for it.”

“That’s complete and utter _bullshit_ ,” Yifan snarled out then, and Junmyeon’s head rose, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. He scrunched himself down into his seat. Yifan looked absolutely _livid_. “Listen to me Junmyeon. A lot of freshmen wind up in your shoes. They get overwhelmed because they don’t know how to manage their time. They get homesick, the self-doubt creeps up on them, they get paranoid and think they can’t do whatever it is they came here to do to begin with. And like I told you already, the next thing you know, their dreams are dead and they’re just chugging along trying to hurry up and get the hell out with a degree.

“The last thing you should _possibly_ do is go crawling to your dad. You think you feel bad now? You go off and do something you don’t even want to do, and I can promise you now, you’re going to be miserable forever. It’s _your_ life, Junmyeon, not anyone else’s, so honestly? Fuck everyone else,” Yifan spat, uncaring as the couple sitting beside him gave him a shameful glance. “You have a lot of potential, Junmyeon, and I fail to see why it’s taking you so long to realize it.”

“But I _don’t_ ,” Junmyeon argued, his red-rimmed eyes big and round and pathetic. “Didn’t you hear me? I can’t keep up, I’m failing everything, I—“

“You need to learn how to balance your time and how to study better, and I can tell you, it will look up. Regardless of how you are doing in your other classes, you’re doing well in mine,” Yifan interrupted.

“It’s different with your class,” Junmyeon mumbled. “I’ve been finishing your projects by the skin of my teeth and they aren’t even very good. I’ve been getting good grades in your class because I got lucky.”

“You honestly think I give out good grades for no reason? Have you forgotten who I am?” Yifan snapped, and Junmyeon paused at that. “I’m one of the most infamous professors out of the entire university faculty. I’m known for being harsh. I’m known for being a brutal grader. I’m known for having a high number of failures in my classes. So do you _really_ believe I would give you high scores just because? You have to work for a good grade in my class, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon’s voice was cracking, desperate and raw. “Why would you give me a good grade when my artwork isn’t even any good?”

“Art doesn’t have to be _perfect_ to be good!” Yifan shouted, temper clearly flaring up now. The two of them were attracting far too much attention, and Yifan snatched up the bill into one large hand. Junmyeon opened his mouth to object, but Yifan instantly cut him off. “Don’t even start. I brought you out, and I’m paying for it.”

Tugging his wallet out of his pocket, Yifan practically slammed down a sum of bills onto the table before he heaved himself to his feet, grabbing his motorcycle helmet in the process. “Get up. We’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?” Junmyeon asked hesitantly. He could tell that he had made the man angry, and he didn’t want to make it any worse.

“I’m going to prove something to you,” Yifan said simply, leading the teenager to the door. Not bothering to slow his gait, he glanced over his shoulder at Junmyeon, who was quickly scurrying after him. “I’m going to show you, once and for all, that there is no such thing as _perfect_ when it comes to art.”

* * *

It was probably a good thing that the two of them could not walk to their destination. The eleven minute drive did them both wonders; Junmyeon was able to piece himself back together after nearly breaking down crying in the restaurant, and Yifan was able to cool down from his anger. By the time Yifan pulled his motorcycle into the parking lot, the air between them had settled considerably.

Still perched on the back of the motorcycle, Junmyeon, with difficulty, managed to pry off the helmet. “Where are we?”

Switching off the engine, Yifan nodded his head in the direction of a large building, colored white. His voice was back to normal, flat and unemotional. “Art museum. You’ve never been here before, I’m assuming?”

“I haven’t,” Junmyeon admitted softly, clambering off the bike. He awkwardly drummed his fingers against the surface of the helmet as he cradled it close to his chest. “I haven’t been downtown at all before until today.”

It felt oddly ironic to him, considering he and Sehun had just gotten over their fight about going downtown together.

“Now you can say that you have,” Yifan replied coolly, leading Junmyeon up the walkway. “Come on. There’s something I want you to see.”

Junmyeon had actually never been to an art museum before. This was his first time setting foot in one, and it was rather obvious, if one was to judge by the way his head was instantly swiveling around to observe the spacious lobby. The large windows allowed tons of natural light to filter in, spilling over the floor as he followed Yifan up to the front desk.

“Hey, Minseok,” Yifan greeted instantly in response, already reaching into his pocket and taking out his wallet before Junmyeon could object. “How much do I owe you for two?”

Junmyeon zoned out briefly to study the man that was sitting behind the large wooden desk. He had a cheeky, almost teasing smile on his face as he talked with Yifan, taking the sum of bills offered to him. Wondering to himself how many times Yifan must have set foot inside the building for the two men to know each other a first name basis, Junmyeon didn’t realize that the man was trying to get his attention. It wasn’t until Yifan nudged him in the side that Junmyeon snapped out of his daydreams, cheeks red as he realized he had been staring.

“Here’s your sticker,” Minseok chirped, offering the circular sticker to him. Junmyeon reached out to take it, taking a brief second to study its design before pressing it onto his shirt. He smiled absently down at it. “I’m Minseok by the way.”

“Junmyeon,” the teen replied quickly, bowing his head. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. Yifan usually comes here by himself, so it’s a pretty nice change of pace to see him with company,” Minseok told him. He turned his attention back onto Yifan. “I already know your answer, but since it’s policy for me to ask: do you need a floor plan?”

“As usual, no,” Yifan replied. He reached up to set his motorcycle helmet on the countertop. “Would you mind holding onto this for me though until we’re done? I need to show Junmyeon some stuff upstairs and you know it’s a pain carrying it around.”

“That’s fine. You know I don’t mind,” Minseok replied, reaching out to take the motorcycle helmet into his hands so that he could store it behind the counter for the two of them. “You guys have fun.”

“Thanks,” Yifan replied, turning away from the desk now. “Come on, Junmyeon. Third floor. We can look at everything else later.”

Yifan led him across the lobby and over to a set of carpeted stairs that wound upwards in a half-circle. Junmyeon couldn’t help but notice how Yifan kept close to the railing, clutching it in a near death grip with one hand as he trudged up the stairs. Junmyeon wanted to comment, but he knew better. He had already set off Yifan’s fuse once today, and he didn’t want to do it again. Prying too much was definitely a possible way of doing so, after all. Instead, he kept his eyes forward, trying to ignore the way Yifan’s back looked like it was about to lock in place any second.

Once they successfully made it to the top floor, Yifan turned right, and Junmyeon followed him. The first few rooms were carpeted, and Yifan brushed past the other patrons silently.

“I forgot to mention this earlier, but Minseok reminds me of you quite a bit. You both have a youthful face,” Yifan commented then, leading Junmyeon underneath another archway that spit them out into another room. “Only difference is that he’s older than you.”

“How old is he, if you don’t mind me asking?” Junmyeon spoke up then, doing his best to keep his voice down. The gallery was dead silent, and his voice felt awfully loud.

“Thirty-two, believe it or not,” Yifan told him, catching the look of surprise on Junmyeon’s face out of the corner of his eye. “I know. Shocker, isn’t it?”

“He doesn’t look that old,” Junmyeon murmured, more to himself than Yifan.

“Yeah, I know.” Yifan shrugged his shoulders loosely. “He’s been working here part-time for years for some extra money. I think he’s trying to get his PhD right now. He’s nice, and pretty damn smart to boot.”

Yifan took him into another room, and the floors suddenly changed. Instead of carpet, these were wood. The boards creaked in objection as the two men walked across them, Yifan in the lead with Junmyeon following. Junmyeon’s head was twisting back and forth, trying to study too much at once. The room the two of them were currently standing within was dedicated to only paintings. Junmyeon wasn’t sure what era in time they were from, but they looked pretty old.

Yifan led him over to a large painting on the wall, and finally came to a halt. Junmyeon paused beside him. The two were staring at the framed artwork, and Yifan spoke up again. “I want you to look at this, and tell me what you see.”

It wasn’t hard to figure out. Junmyeon wasn’t sure why Yifan would ask such an obvious question, so he was nearly certain that the man was referring to something more symbolic or hidden, but he wasn’t sure what. So Junmyeon went with the obvious, his voice hesitant and soft as he spoke. “It’s…a man on a gondola? With some buildings in the background?”

“Look deeper,” Yifan told him, hands tucked in his pockets.

Junmyeon frowned as he turned his gaze back onto the painting, unsure of what he was supposed to be hunting for. After a few minutes of searching, and coming up with nothing, Junmyeon broke the silence that had blossomed between them. “I’m sorry, I… I don’t understand.”

“Look at the strokes. Look at how the artist put down his paint,” Yifan said instantly, and Junmyeon blinked in surprise. He hadn’t paid that any mind. He now leaned a little closer to get a better view. “How does it look?”

“The paint is so…thick,” Junmyeon observed, voice trailing off briefly. It was the truth; the paint was slapped onto the canvas in such thick amounts that it literally jutted off of the surface in visible, chunky strokes. “The strokes aren’t big either.”

“And they’re messy. Short and wide paint strokes. They don’t even connect into each other,” Yifan added, shuffling over to the next painting, and Junmyeon followed him. “And look at this one. Look at how everything smears together at the edges.”

Yifan showed him every single painting in the room. One by one, they stood before the paintings, studying them together. Yifan lectured him about every single one, pointing out its flaws. The paint strokes. The paint thickness. The way the focus was off-center. The colors that didn’t complement each other. The way the shadows seemed off compared to how the light source was stationed. Yifan tore them all apart, and Junmyeon soaked up every single word.

At last, Yifan stood beside him before the final painting in the room, and it was the ugliest thing Junmyeon had ever seen.

“What even is this supposed to be?” Junmyeon asked softly, staring at the canvas. There was a huge smear of black, shaped vaguely like a rectangle. There were random lines of green and red and yellow too, moving in random patterns and loops. “It just looks like a big mess.”

“It’s an abstract painting. It’s supposed to make you think,” Yifan told him, glancing down at Junmyeon then. “I’m sure you could list plenty of reasons why this painting is far from perfect.”

“It’s so ugly,” Junmyeon whined softly, staring into the painting with confused eyes. “How did something like this get put into a museum?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you this entire time,” Yifan replied, voice calm. “Art doesn’t have to be perfect to be considered good, Junmyeon, and it doesn’t have to be pretty all the time. Think about everything I just showed you. None of them were perfect, but they were all still artwork, correct? They were deemed good enough to be hung on a museum wall. And, furthermore, none of them looked alike. Every single one had a different style. That’s what being an artist is truly about. You have to find your own style to create your own art. No one’s style is the same, and neither is anyone’s art. Art is subjective, art is relative, and art is strange. It’s one of the few subject areas that don’t require perfection in order to be considered decent.

“Your art is good, Junmyeon. You probably don’t realize it yet, but you do have your own style when you paint. It’s unique. Your art is far from perfect, as is everyone else’s, but you do as you’re told. You fill your space, you blend, you pay attention to detail. You follow directions, and your work is good.” The right corner of Yifan’s mouth twitched, as if the man was trying to smile. “ _That_ is why you’re doing so well in my class.”

It felt as if the final puzzle piece had finally clicked into place.

“Do you understand now?” Yifan asked him, hands still tucked into the pockets of his pants as he stared down at Junmyeon. “Are you still considering dropping? You have potential, Junmyeon, and I don’t want you to lose it.”

“No, I…” Junmyeon said softly, staring at the abstract painting before him for a second longer before glancing up at Yifan. He smiled. “I don’t think I am.”

He could have sworn he saw Yifan’s body sag with relief.

“And, well… I guess… I’ll just have to try harder at school. And your paintings too, of course.” Junmyeon nodded his head just once, as if to confirm his own words. “I won’t give up yet.”

Maybe all he had needed this entire time was a push from someone else.

“Feeling sorry for yourself does not suit you, Junmyeon,” Yifan said, swiveling on his heel. “Come on. We can head back to the start of the exhibits and take a look at everything we missed.”

“Wait! Hang on,” Junmyeon interrupted, and in a moment of brief panic, his hand lunged out, grabbing Yifan by the hem of his leather jacket to hold him back. Yifan instantly paused, turning just enough so that he could face Junmyeon properly, not commenting on the fact that Junmyeon was touching him. “I…”

Yifan arched an eyebrow, confusion visible on his face, before Junmyeon just sighed and offered him a warm smile.

“Thank you,” Junmyeon murmured then, breaking the silence that had bloomed between them. “ _Really_. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me today. I… I haven’t told anyone about what has happened to me. I feel a lot better, now that I got it off my chest. So thank you for listening to me. Thank you for paying for my things. Thank you for helping me.”

The man merely nodded. “I told you, Junmyeon. I’m still human, regardless of how people label me.”

“Well, you’re not nearly as mean as you look, and not nearly as cruel as some people say you are,” Junmyeon said. “So no matter what people say, I know the truth.”

That was the only warning Yifan received before Junmyeon suddenly plowed into him so hard that it knocked the air out of Yifan’s lungs.

“Don’t worry,” Junmyeon said, literally talking into Yifan’s chest as he squeezed the larger male in a big, warm hug. “I won’t tell anyone that you’re secretly a softie, mister Wu.”

Yifan was as stiff as a board in the teenager’s arms. Clearly not knowing what to do, Yifan reached down with one hand and awkwardly patted Junmyeon on the back as he realized the boy wasn’t going to let him go. And with Junmyeon’s face buried into his torso, the teen, yet again, missed the flush running down the back of Yifan’s neck.

Yifan cleared his throat, and that was enough to snap Junmyeon out of it.

“Oh—Oh, I’m sorry,” Junmyeon babbled, quickly releasing the other. Embarrassed, Junmyeon let out a soft, nervous laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I got excited and carried away. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It… It’s fine. I just…” Yifan rambled quietly, seeming unsure of what to say. “I just don’t remember the last time anyone has hugged me. I guess I froze up on you.”

The man’s words made Junmyeon frown. He looked like he was about to say something, but Yifan was already turning away from him. Junmyeon quickly followed on his smaller legs.

“Mister Wu?” Junmyeon piped up from beside the man as Yifan led him back through the gallery. “Do we have time to look at the stuff downstairs too?”

“We should. The museum is open for a few more hours,” Yifan replied, eyes staring dead ahead. “By the way, Junmyeon, you don’t have to keep calling me ‘mister Wu’. It makes me feel old when you do that.”

“Ah… Sorry. I didn’t realize. I just thought it’d be polite,” Junmyeon murmured, frowning a little. “Would you like for me to call you Kris from now on?”

“Actually…” Yifan started. The man’s throat visibly bobbed as he struggled to pick his next words. He wouldn’t look at Junmyeon as the two of them came to a stop at one of the glass cases near the start of the exhibit. “When it’s the two of us like this, you can call me Yifan.”

Almost instantly, something clicked in Junmyeon’s head, as he remembered the first day of lectures.

_“I’m sure the majority of you either already know, or noticed when you registered for your classes, that my name is Yifan. Do not call me that. Kris is fine. Mister Wu or professor Wu are also acceptable choices,” Yifan said then, breaking the stillness of the classroom. “But that’s it. Your choices are one of those three.”_

_No one_ was allowed to call the man by his real name, and Junmyeon couldn’t put his finger on why the fact Yifan wanted him to call him that instead of _Kris_ made his body feel so unbelievably warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 6 Sep 2016


	10. Constraint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ CONSTRAINT ]_
> 
> _something that restricts, limits, or regulates_

After obtaining a good night’s rest, Junmyeon thankfully wasn’t falling asleep at random intervals all day like he had been earlier in the week. With enough rest and an eventful day that left him in a much better mood than he had ever been in lately, Junmyeon had easily accepted the offer of going with his friends across campus.

By the time Yifan had dropped him back off on campus, it was evening. Junmyeon had given the man his thanks and the biggest smile he could muster as he gave Yifan back his motorcycle helmet. Yifan had just nodded at him, tugging the helmet over his own head and fiddling with the chin strap. That was the last interaction between them. After Yifan had his helmet on and properly adjusted, Junmyeon gave him one final parting wave, and with the loud roar of the motorcycle’s engine, Yifan sped off down the street. Junmyeon remained rooted to the sidewalk behind the library, watching the man go. And even as Yifan vanished from sight entirely, leaving Junmyeon completely alone, he still felt an odd mesh of emotions inside of him, from warmth to comfort to happiness.

He felt much better than he had felt in _weeks._ It was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and there was a newfound pep in Junmyeon’s walk as the boy traveled down the sidewalk, headed for his dorm. It was nearly dinnertime; maybe he and Sehun could go get something to eat together, if the other boy was home.

There must have been something different about him, because when he opened up the main door to his dorm, whistling to himself as he stepped inside, Sehun sat up from his spot on his bed to give him an odd look.

And the stare continued for several moments, until at last, Sehun piped up with his eyebrows arched. “You sure do seem to be in a good mood.”

“I guess so,” Junmyeon agreed coolly, shrugging his shoulders. “Today was nice.”

Sehun’s eyebrows quirked up just a little higher. “Any particular reason why?”

“Not really?” Junmyeon offered in response, voice honest and chipper. “Just a good day that put me in a good mood.”

It wasn’t a lie; it _had_ been a rather excellent day. Considering all that had happened, there wasn’t just one reason for the improvement. Of course, Junmyeon still hadn’t warmed up to the idea of telling Sehun – or anyone else, for that matter – that he had spent the entire day with Yifan. His friends gossiped far too much for his liking and he had already learned that they weren’t particularly fond of the professor. It was best to keep that chunk of information a secret. If Sehun wanted more details, Junmyeon had decided he could just talk about his museum trip, and leave out the fact he had visited with Yifan. People went to museums alone all the time, right? That way there was no lying. Plus, he wouldn’t seem suspicious if he could tell Sehun something about his day, even if it was just small details.

But unknown to Junmyeon, his behavior was already out of the ordinary, and it was obvious that Sehun had already determined that Junmyeon was hiding something from him, if the way he was furrowing his eyebrows together had anything to say about it.

Regardless, Sehun let the topic go.

“Okay… Well,” Sehun started, adjusting his weight so that he could swing his legs over the edge of the bed. “You came home just in time, I guess. Jongin just texted me. Apparently he and Zitao are going to hang out with Yixing and Jongdae and want to know if we want to tag along.”

Now that he wasn’t severely sleep deprived, it felt like Junmyeon finally had the energy and capacity to socialize again. He was in a good mood, and finally getting to meet Jongdae didn’t sound bad.

“Sure,” Junmyeon replied at last, his trademark smile at last returning, white teeth flashing from between his lips. “I’ll go.”

Sehun couldn’t stop the surprise from showing on his face. After all, Junmyeon had been severely reclusive lately, turning down every invitation to go out, and rejecting every offer to hang out with his friends. And now, all of a sudden, Junmyeon’s behavior had spun on a dime. The boy was back to his chipper self as if nothing had all had been bothering him for the past few weeks.

Sehun followed Junmyeon out the door a few minutes later, unable to stop himself from giving his roommate a long, knowing look that went unnoticed. Junmyeon was too busy locking up their room to catch a glimpse of Sehun’s expression. Something was definitely up with Junmyeon, but Sehun just didn’t know what it was yet.

* * *

In Junmyeon’s opinion, Yixing’s previous descriptions of his roommate hit the nail right on the head. Jongdae was far from a bad person. He was quite warm and rather affectionate, if the way he had casually propped his chin up on Yixing’s shoulder while they all talked was any clue. And of course, Yixing had been correct when he had mentioned that Jongdae was noisy. His voice was already a bit louder than most, but his laugh was even more boisterous. Still, Junmyeon didn’t really mind. Jongdae was just as easy-going and friendly as the others in their group of friends, and it easily made them all click.

Introductions had gone by easily enough, and it wasn’t long before the six of them were all crammed in Yixing’s and Jongdae’s dorm room. They had lined the rather cold and unforgiving floor with spare sheets and blankets, huddled together as they chatted over several boxes of pizza they had all chipped in to buy. The atmosphere among them was so laidback and yet so energetic, nothing but a happy aura around them all as they joked and laughed and chatted. It was as if for those few hours on a Saturday night, the worries and woes of schoolwork, lectures, exams, and sleepless nights no longer existed.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Jongdae started, replying to one of Junmyeon’s embarrassing stories of clumsiness during his lectures. Jongdae was pulling another slice of pizza out of one of the boxes, fighting momentarily with the strings of cheese that hung off of one edge. “I had to take a chemistry class, and I was literally the clumsiest person alive in that lab. I swear there wasn’t a day that went by where I spilled chemicals or broke glass. I’m like ninety percent sure my instructor hated me for it.”

Junmyeon sighed, currently wedged between Sehun and Zitao, and pouting as he took a sip of his drink, plastic cup clutched in his tiny hands. “That sounds like me normally though. I break just about everything I touch, and if I don’t, I’m bound to spill something or trip over something. There’s no winning when you’re a klutz.”

“To be honest, the funniest part about this in my opinion,” Zitao said casually in reply to Junmyeon, “was how smoothly your first kiss story was when you told us about it. I’m surprised you and your boyfriend even kissed. With how clumsy you are, it would have been more realistic for you two to miss each other’s lips. Or like, you trip, and your mouths hit, and one of you ends up with a chipped tooth. How romantic.”

Yixing let out a snort. “Sounds like my first year here and this girl I was going out with bit the blood out of my lip on accident.”

“Doing what? Kissing you?” Sehun asked, letting out a guffaw. “I’d hate to know what happened between the two of you when you finally made it to the bedroom level.”

“Well, actually,” Yixing continued, “this one time…”

Junmyeon wasn’t sure if he _wanted_ to know. But the topic had already shifted, and everyone else seemed oddly interested in whatever Yixing had to say. Then again, all six of them were rather comfortable with each other already, and were all about the same age. Discussing these sorts of things weren’t uncommon at this point. Still, Junmyeon couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy, because _everyone_ was starting to talk about their personal life after Yixing had stopped discussing his. Junmyeon knew, deep down, that if he didn’t give details, someone was going to wind up grilling him half to death for them. He was officially on his way to being backed into a corner.

Maybe if he was lucky no one would ask, but Junmyeon knew the cards, more often than not, did not fall into place properly for him.

And sure enough, his prediction was correct. They were going in a circle. Everyone was telling a story about their first time having sex and a small part of Junmyeon felt filthy just listening to his friends talk about it. He noticed that no two stories were the same though. One was a result of having too much fun at a high school party. One about a couple that had met under typical standards and things had heated up after they began to date. Junmyeon just sat there and listened as everyone talked about their history, one by one. Junmyeon was the very last person in the circle. His hopes of merely being forgotten were crushed, because when Sehun finished telling his own tale, five pairs of eyes gridlocked onto Junmyeon. He was up and he wanted nothing more than to vanish.

“What about you, Junmyeon?” Jongin asked then, and Junmyeon swallowed nervously as all eyes were on him. He was already unaccustomed to being the center of attention, but the topic at hand definitely was not helping matters any. They all looked so _expectant_ on top of it and it made Junmyeon even more anxious. “I think we’re all dying to know.”

It wasn’t like Junmyeon was keeping it a secret that he liked men. Sehun was the first to know, and from there, Junmyeon slowly told the others. No one really cared, thankfully. A few of the others in his group of friends had run-ins with boys too – whether just kissing or something more, Junmyeon didn’t know – so they didn’t really have any room to judge regardless. They all knew that Junmyeon’s first kiss had been with a boy, and that Junmyeon had his first boyfriend when he was in high school. But that was all that Junmyeon had told them, and that was all the details that he provided, vague as they were. But never before had they discussed anything that went on behind the closed doors of a bedroom, and suddenly put in the spotlight, Junmyeon’s mind had gone blank as he struggled to come up with a response.

The truth was embarrassing to him and he didn’t want to admit it.

“It’s really not important,” Junmyeon said lamely in response, practically talking to the floor at this point. He had his head bowed and his fingers were picking at the blanket he was sitting on. “I’m sure you guys really don’t wanna know.”

“But we do,” Sehun spoke up from beside him, and Junmyeon shrunk down just a bit more, already feeling like he was losing the battle. “Everyone else told theirs, so what’s the big deal? You don’t have to be embarrassed about it.”

“No one’s first time is great either,” Zitao pointed out from his opposite side, and Junmyeon knew he was trying to be helpful, but he felt even more trapped at this point. “So you don’t need to be worried about telling us even if it was bad sex.”

Junmyeon’s face was flushing pink as he refused to meet their eyes. “It’s really not that big of a deal though. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well when you keep putting it like that, it makes us want to know even more,” Jongdae commented from across the floor.

“Guys, come _on_ ,” Junmyeon whined. “Just let it go. There’s nothing important to talk about.”

“Are you sure there is even anything to talk about?” Yixing asked then, and Junmyeon visibly stiffened as he glanced over at his friend. Yixing had his eyebrows knitted together in thought and based on that look that was plastered across his face, Junmyeon felt his stomach drop, because it was painfully obvious that Yixing knew something. “Because it sounds like you haven’t even done anything sexual.”

Junmyeon’s face burned bright red instantaneously. “D-Don’t be ridiculous!”

“If it’s so ridiculous then just give us some info,” Yixing replied casually. Junmyeon’s face was burning, and his heart was practically racing in his chest by now. “Besides, Junmyeon, your face gets _really_ red when you’re hiding something.”

At this point, no one was buying into his act, nor his excuses. Realization lit up their eyes and Junmyeon simply wanted to disappear as one by one, every person turned towards him with big eyes.

“You’re a _virgin?”_ Sehun deadpanned.

“Don’t say it like that,” Junmyeon complained, his skin feeling like it was on fire as he raised his hands to bury his face into them. He moaned pathetically. “ _Okay_. Fine. I admit it. I’m a virgin.”

“But you had a boyfriend,” Jongin said slowly. “You’ve had more than one boyfriend.”

“I’ve only had two. One early in high school and one before I graduated,” Junmyeon mumbled into his palms. “We never did anything.”

“So let me get this straight. You had two boyfriends so far and never had sex,” Zitao summarized. Junmyeon didn’t look up, but did nod in response, face still hidden from their eyes. “Did you do anything at all?”

“No, nothing,” Junmyeon mumbled.

“Nothing? At all?” Zitao continued, blinking in surprise. “No oral no touching each other no _nothing?”_

“No. Neither of them never even saw me naked, let alone did anything with me like that. We kissed and held hands and stuff, but that was about it,” Junmyeon confessed. He finally dropped his hands and his face was still flushed, colored in a deep red that matched too well with a beet. “Okay? We didn’t do anything. I didn’t want them to. I didn’t feel ready for any of that when I was dating them back then.”

“How long were you guys together?” Jongin piped up.

Junmyeon sighed, heat still evident in his skin as he busied himself with picking at the flesh surrounding his fingernails. “Four months with my first boyfriend. He broke up with me. I was together with my second one for…I don’t remember…eight months?”

“You guys were together for eight months and you didn’t do _anything_?” Yixing asked. There was no mocking in his voice, only genuine surprise. “Junmyeon, I’m not trying to degrade you or make fun of you or anything, but that’s a really long time to go in a relationship without any physical contact.”

“I know. That’s probably why he broke up with me too,” Junmyeon replied, and he actually laughed a bit, although there was no humor behind it. He sighed, shoulders slumping. “Look, I just… It’s complicated, okay? Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I just dated them to say I had a boyfriend. I liked them both when I was going out with them. I just… I didn’t feel ready.”

“Eight months wasn’t long enough?” Sehun shot back.

“Like I said, it’s complicated. I liked them, and I liked being together with them, but I just… I never felt ready to do any of that. They kept pushing me and I felt really trapped and when I said no they would always get so huffy. I get that they have wants and needs like every other person, but…” Junmyeon swallowed. “But what about me? Why was I always the bad guy for not wanting to do it yet? I’m not trying to save myself for some ‘right person’ or anything. I mean, I guess I’d rather wait and do it with someone that really loves me, but that’s not the point, I guess. But I just… I just wish more people understood that people like me take more time to get comfortable enough with someone to get that far, you know?”

“What do you mean ‘people like me’?” Jongdae piped up from around a mouthful of pizza.

Junmyeon shrugged weakly. “It’s just hard to feel that comfortable around someone for me. I know I’m sociable and make friends easily but that’s a lot different from a relationship and intimate physical contact. And as for the ‘people like me’ comment, I… I can only guess it’s easier for others to get that far. I’m sure it’s easier when you’re actually likeable and attractive and fun to be around.”

The others merely blinked at him in puzzlement for a moment, their faces slowly clouding over with obvious confusion.

“Junmyeon, what on earth are you talking about?” Zitao was speaking again, reaching out to give the boy a small swat on the leg. “If you weren’t fun to be around or likeable, none of us would want to hang out with you. We all like you. You know that.”

“And you make it sound like you’re ugly, when you definitely aren’t,” Jongin added. “Your boyfriends obviously thought you were attractive. And again, I – and everyone else here, I’m sure – don’t think you’re bad looking.”

Junmyeon’s eyes were glued onto his fingers.

_“Why do you always smile so damn big, Junmyeon? You need to quit doing that. It shows off all those big ugly teeth you have.” “How many times do I have to tell you not to bother me when I’m working? All you ever do is keep getting under my feet, Junmyeon, and it’s really starting to piss me off! Go be obnoxious somewhere else!” “You really should talk less. Your jokes aren’t funny, for starters. Two, I’ve never heard anyone with a more annoying laugh.” “It’s bad enough your mother supports this ‘lifestyle’ of yours. I’m sure any other father would be just as disappointed as I am to find out their only son is so confused that he wants to date another man.” “Well, it’s no wonder he broke up with you. You aren’t exactly the easiest thing to love, you know. Perhaps this is your punishment for being so disrespectful.”_

Junmyeon pushed the pizza box that had been sitting closes to him away, instead directing it closer to Zitao, who was still mowing down the piece that he had. Junmyeon’s appetite was suddenly gone, and he sighed softly through his nose as he loosely shrugged his shoulders. “I guess so.”

“Hey, come on, don’t be upset,” Zitao practically cooed, holding his slice of pizza in one hand as he reached out with his free arm to wrap it around Junmyeon’s shoulders. The boy let out a surprised grunt as Zitao practically yanked him closer, his forehead smacking into the younger male’s ribcage. “We aren’t here to mope. You’ve done enough of that lately. We’re here to hang out and have a good time, so don’t you even start with the sulking.”

“I’m not sulking,” Junmyeon grumbled in response.

“You sure do look like you’re about to. Either way, I can tell you’re getting upset. But don’t be.” Zitao patted him on the back. “It’s really not that big of a deal Junmyeon. I mean, hey, we’re surprised, that’s all. Like we said, most people don’t wait that long to do that sort of stuff, but it doesn’t mean you’re broken or anything for wanting to wait longer.”

“I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait for you,” Yixing agreed. “You’ll probably have a really good connection with that person, whoever it is.”

“One thing though,” Sehun commented, “if the guy tries to tell you it won’t hurt, he’s lying to you. It will, especially since it’ll be your first time. And now that you know, you can call him out on it if he tries to lie to you about it and butter you up.”

Junmyeon didn’t want to ask how Sehun knew that, but he was pretty sure he already knew the answer. Instead, he merely nodded in reply, forehead tapping against one of Zitao’s ribs. He could hear the bigger male chewing, but he didn’t really mind. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You can always talk to us about this stuff if you ever need to,” Jongin told him. “I mean, granted, I’m sure some of us in here know more than others, but we’re friends, Junmyeon. We probably shouldn’t have pried so hard to get you to talk about this, but now that we know… Well… Like I said. We’re here if you ever need anything.”

“It’s fine. You guys would have found out eventually anyway,” Junmyeon said softly, not bothering to try to push Zitao away, and instead just sinking against the other and trying to make himself comfortable. He could tell Zitao wasn’t planning on letting him go any time soon. “Like you said, we’re friends. It would have come out at some point, I suppose, especially considering you already know what I prefer in a partner…”

“Partner?” Sehun let out an amused snort. “That’s a bit deep for a beginning relationship, don’t you think? Why don’t you just start off with the ‘boyfriend’ label?”

Junmyeon just rolled his eyes and replied by swinging out one leg sideways, letting it glide across the blanket and kicking Sehun right in the hip. The noise his roommate released made the remaining boys in the room erupt into laughter, and Junmyeon relaxed just a little more. The topic was beginning to shift now as Yixing began to tease Sehun about his ‘sensitive joints’ when the younger started whining about how badly Junmyeon’s ‘attack’ had hurt him.

Junmyeon merely sat back and listened to them squabble, ignoring the sudden nagging feeling in the back of his head as he just sank against Zitao’s body a little more.

* * *

Yifan couldn’t sleep.

Exhausted, but unable to find any peace, Yifan let out a loud and heavy sigh as he reached up with one hand to rub his eyes. He wanted to say that he was used to it by now, but it seemed like with every passing day, the sleepless nights grew more and more unbearable.

Yifan had never been an insomniac, and still wasn’t. If the pain in his back would give him a break, he was positive that he would be able to sleep without an issue. After all, in the earlier hours of the day, when it was more of just a dull ache, Yifan could fall asleep quite easily, like the days where he passed out in his office, drooling on his desk.

But what was usually just a lingering pain always, without fail, manifested itself into something more awful as the daylight hours trickled away. By the time Yifan went to lie down at night, it was a sharp, _horrible_ pain in his spine that never failed to keep him awake. Of course, after dealing with the pain for years now – and the intensity only cranking up with each passing one – Yifan had already passed the days of being able to use painkillers to make the pain ebb away. They simply didn’t work anymore; Yifan’s body had long ago become resistant to pain relievers, adjusting to them easily, since Yifan used to choke them down constantly.

There were many products in the world that could probably help him. Pills would help him sleep, but Yifan knew that with his luck, he’d be hatching a sleeping pill addiction in no time. He avoided them, just like how he avoided making a doctor’s appointment for his back, despite Luhan’s nagging.

Standing in his bathroom, Yifan smoothed his knuckles over the heated wrap he had positioned on his lower back. Determining he had it where he wanted it, he managed to reach around far enough to press the adhesive tabs down firmly against his skin to ensure the wrap wouldn’t slip off or move around. Yifan had already let it heat up properly and he could already feel the warmth seeping through his skin and into his muscles and bones. Almost instantly, Yifan could feel his body practically sagging towards the floor in relief, all the pain and pressure slowly washing out of him.

Shuffling out of his bathroom sleepily, Yifan headed into his living room and practically collapsed onto his couch with a satisfied groan. At least it was Saturday; he could afford to be up at weird hours of the night on the weekend. He wouldn’t have to drag himself out of bed bright and early and spend an entire day teaching long lectures while running on very little sleep.

Plus, since it was the weekend, he had some more time to think about the day’s events before going back to class on Monday. Honestly… Yifan didn’t think he was prepared to return to the classroom yet. Lectures meant that he would be seeing Junmyeon, and Yifan didn’t feel quite ready to face him.

Simply remembering what had happened earlier in the day made Yifan shift his weight uncomfortably on the cushions.

Yifan had trained himself not to let emotions show on his face, but like every other person, he still had feelings. And Yifan did not know _what_ to think anymore. It was a bad mixture of realization, confusion, fear, and even disgust.

But Yifan was far from idiotic, and all it had taken for him to slot the puzzle pieces into their proper place was a big bear hug from Junmyeon.

He had a crush.

This was _definitely_ not good. It went beyond the fact that Yifan had his eyes on another male. Yifan had already determined _years_ ago that his sexual and romantic interests were reserved only for other men, and his preferences did not bother him. He was who he was, after all. It was not his first time being attracted to a guy.

It was, however, his first time harboring attraction towards one of his _students_. That was the tip of the iceberg when it came to why the situation was both horribly complicated, and as to why it rubbed Yifan the wrong way. He had thought, all this time, that it was nothing more than the bare basics that were keeping him going. He had tried to make Junmyeon blush in class because it was amusing to see the boy get so worked up. He had let Junmyeon babble and chat with him so much for the sake of the student and his emotions. He had been helping Junmyeon with his artwork because it was his job as a professor. He had taken Junmyeon out to cheer him up because of his understanding and sympathy.

It was so much more than that, and Yifan had only just now realized it.

Sure, his assumptions were correct, in a sense, but they did not cover the entire story. It went so much deeper than that, and Yifan had failed to realize it until the younger male had grabbed him in the tightest hug he could muster. Even if Yifan wanted to continue to blame his actions and decisions on his position of a professor and an older person, there was no denying that being around Junmyeon made him feel different.

For example, the way his skin practically began to burn as it flushed red, all just from Junmyeon gripping him around the waist, clutching him in a hug, or burying his face into his chest. And not only that, when Junmyeon hugged him, face buried into his pectoral muscles, his heart had started racing to the extent that Yifan was surprised Junmyeon hadn’t been able to hear his pulse.

Perhaps the icing on the cake was the fact that despite all the kids who had erupted into tears and meltdowns in front of him over the years, no one’s mental breakdown had affected him the way Junmyeon’s had. There had never been a student like Junmyeon in his class before, always smiling, optimistic, happy-go-lucky. And there had never been a student to have that awful of a collapse in front of him before. Perhaps that was why Yifan had gone to the extent that he had in attempts of helping him, trying to push Junmyeon forward with a combination of advice and warm actions.

Or perhaps it was that Yifan had grown so much more attached than he had ever intended.

Eyelids finally drooping, Yifan heaved himself, with difficulty, off the couch. Taking one brief moment to switch off his television, Yifan went stumbling into his bedroom, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. When he collapsed, boneless, onto his mattress, his eyes were already closed. The exhaustion was hitting him _hard_ now and Yifan did not stand a chance. The good news was that his patch would stay warm for eight hours, and would cool on its own, so at least he would sleep peacefully for a while.

Tugging one of his blankets over himself, Yifan burrowed down into his mattress. Hanging onto consciousness by a thread, he couldn’t help but think about Junmyeon. The entire situation made him experience such a horrendous mixture of emotions and Yifan still did not quite understand them all. He knew that he was getting in way too deep, especially considering that he hardly even knew Junmyeon. He didn’t have any knowledge about what the other male liked, let alone if the boy would be interested in someone like _him._

But if Yifan wanted answers, Yifan was going to get them, one way or another. And in this case, Yifan was prepared to do everything he could to figure out if the boy liked him back.

He had to have _some_ chance of Junmyeon being interested in him, right? After all, Junmyeon had been the one to wrap him up in a hug without any hesitation. No one ever hugged him. No one had hugged him in _years_ , not since…

_“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Luhan was hiccupping, round tears dripping down his cheeks. His arms were practically choking him, wrapped like a noose around Yifan’s neck as he cried, ignoring the hands trying to pull him away and torrent of comments telling him he needed to let go. Luhan looked awfully tiny through Yifan’s blurred vision as the history professor leaned against the edge of his hospital bed to hold himself up on his own two legs. “God, Kris, I’m so glad you’re okay.”_

That was the last thought on Yifan’s mind as he, at long last, fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 18 Sep 2016


	11. Style

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ STYLE ]_
> 
> _a distinctive or characteristic manner of expression_

Junmyeon couldn’t remove his helmet.

Perched on the back of the motorcycle, feet still propped up on the pegs, Junmyeon was having a full on battle with the helmet encased around his skull. He was moving blindly, small fingers practically clawing at the strap beneath his chin in pathetic attempts of undoing it, unable to see what he was doing. He wasn’t having any success, however, and Junmyeon was on the verge of having a panic attack, as he was still enclosed within the full face helmet.

“What, are you stuck?” A voice commented, dry as always, yet there was the slightest bit of amusement lingering at the edges. “I told you that you shouldn’t try to do the strap by yourself.”

There were hands brushing against his skin. Junmyeon instantly fell still, long fingers tugging at the strap and rings to help free him from his imprisonment. Peering out through the visor, still down, Junmyeon could see a familiar face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, full lips pursed together into a straight line.

And the oddest part of it all was that he could feel warmth coming from the pads of the man’s fingertips as they brushed against his skin, grazing against his throat and making his skin _burn._ He could hear nothing but his pulse hammering inside of his chest and he swallowed, bobbing throat pressing against Yifan’s index finger—

There was a bird chirping on his windowsill as Junmyeon jerked awake.

It took the student a long moment to realize that he had been dreaming. Lying in his bed, Junmyeon’s lungs were working in uneven intakes of breath and shaky exhales. His blanket was tangled around his waist, moisture lingering on his skin. Remaining locked in place, eyes cast on his ceiling, he could hear a mixture of noises as Sehun snored softly in the bed across the room, mangled with the loud chirps of the bird, and the hum of their AC as it clicked on at last.

Finally realizing that it had all been in his head, Junmyeon sighed deeply and raised one arm. He let the limb rest over his face, practically burying his eyes into his skin. A dream. He had _dreamed_ about _Yifan._

Just thinking about it made Junmyeon’s skin crawl.

Was it because he had spent the day with Yifan yesterday? Junmyeon had no idea, but the fact that he had dreamed about his professor made him feel so _weird_. And it wasn’t just about the dream itself; it was that it had only been between the two of them. There were no other people in the area, an empty world filled with nothing but a parking lot, the professor’s motorcycle, and the two of them. It just screamed odd to him.

He could still practically feel Yifan’s fingers brushing up against his neck. The dream had been so realistic; it felt just like how the professor had touched him when doing the chin strap for him before they had gone to get lunch together. Yifan’s hands, despite their size and appearance, were warm and soft and in his dream…they had felt _just like_ how they did in real life.

That knowledge made his stomach lurch. It was weird enough that he had dreamed about the man to begin with, but the fact that his brain had created a borderline carbon copy of Yifan’s hands, just as warm and soft as they were in reality, was even more strange.

Junmyeon lowered his arm and slowly sat up, sheets crinkling underneath him. He sighed softly, dragging his fingers through his hair, pushing his bangs back in the process. There was still some sweat lingering on his skin and it made him feel absolutely disgusting. He needed a shower.

Junmyeon shifted on the old bed, swinging his legs over the edge and yawning as he did so. Sliding off the mattress, and managing to successfully land on his own two feet without stumbling, Junmyeon cast a glance across the room. As usual, Sehun was still in a deep and undisturbed sleep, curled up beneath his blanket and snoring quietly.

He couldn’t help but feel a little jealous as he moved about the room, gathering his shower caddy and a towel. How Sehun always managed to have such a nice period of slumber was beyond him. Junmyeon shook his head in puzzlement and headed for the door. He would have slept longer too if it wasn’t for that weird dream he had. He doubted that it meant anything though; it was probably just a manifestation of lingering sleep deprivation and eating junk food too late at night.

…Right?

Regardless, no more pizza and soda right before bed. Willing the awfully realistic dream to leave his mind, Junmyeon instead placed his focus on the task at hand: taking his much-needed shower.

* * *

He spent a large portion of Sunday trying to catch up on his work for Yifan’s class. Since he had been falling so far behind on his last project, Junmyeon was only just now beginning their next assignment, while the majority of the class had already made larger dents in their work. Still, even if he was lagging behind, Junmyeon was doing his absolute best not to panic. He could still hear the echoes of Yifan’s words in the back of his head, telling him that he could accomplish his goals and that even if Junmyeon did not have the utmost confidence in himself, his work wasn’t bad.

If he breathed deeply and just took it one step at a time, everything would be okay.

By the time Monday rolled around, Junmyeon had made progress. He was working his hardest on the sidelines to remain calm, because deep down, he already knew that stress would not be beneficial to him in the slightest. Either way, he didn’t harbor any desire for the negativity to consume hi a second time. One complete meltdown had been bad enough.

When the day slowly began, Junmyeon had his mindset locked in place that today was going to be a good day. He and Sehun went to get breakfast together before they parted ways. Junmyeon had been in a rather excellent mood as he trekked across campus and over to the art building, keychains jingling on his backpack with every step. It was a new day, and Junmyeon was planning to take the bull by the horns.

Still, of all the things he had predicted to possibly happen on that Monday, Yifan walking into lecture wearing a bright pink shirt was not one of them.

It was not nearly as atrocious as the lime green shoes that Yifan had once worn to class, but it was almost the same level of distracting. For their next assignment, they were told to paint a landscape scene. Junmyeon, after missing the details about the project due to skipping class on Friday, had gotten a rundown of all the requirements from Yixing. The only catch was that the landscapes had to include water, one way or another, whether it be the ocean, a waterfall, a river. Apparently, Yian was trying to push them into dabbling into reflections, like how images and sunlight seemed to shine off the water’s surface.

But there was just one problem: Junmyeon couldn’t focus because of Yifan’s bright pink shirt. Whenever he tried to keep his gaze glued to the canvas, there it was, lingering out of the corner of his eyes an making itself at home in his peripheral vision. Perhaps it would have been easier to block out if it was a different color. Blue or black would be easier, but _pink_ , especially a shade so bright, was not going down without a fight.

Since Junmyeon could see it out of the corner of his eye, he at last decided the only way to solve his problem would be to adjust how he was sitting. Heaving himself out of his chair, Junmyeon began to fiddle with his workspace. He twisted his easel a little to the side. He changed the angle of his chair. If he was lucky, then his canvas would be able to block out Yifan’s figure entirely.

He could hear a mumble from behind him as he worked on adjusting his canvas. _He looks like a damn pansy with that shirt on_. Well, at least Junmyeon wasn’t the only one who had noticed Yifan’s rather odd wardrobe choice for the day. Then again, with how bright it was, it’d be a wonder if someone didn’t notice it.

Junmyeon sat down. He was getting closer. All he could see now was one of Yifan’s shoulders, protruding from behind one edge of his canvas. Junmyeon instantly stood back up, ready to make final adjustments so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the eyesore distracting him anymore.

However, as he began to feel something watching him, Junmyeon glanced up as he twisted his easel to the side just a little more.

From the front of the room, Yifan was staring at him. Paintbrush in one hand and palette in the other, Yifan’s attention had strayed from his work to instead watch Junmyeon. However, as they locked gazes, Yifan instantly looked away as fast as he could, gluing his eyes back onto his canvas.

At first, Junmyeon thought it had just been a coincidence. It wouldn’t have been weird if that had been the only instance. However, it wasn’t, and _that_ was what made things odd. Yifan kept staring at him the entire class period. It took Junmyeon some time to realize it, as he had adjusted his workspace so that he could no longer see the professor, but when he moved around, every time, without fail, Yifan was staring at him. When Junmyeon walked to the back of the room to use the sink, Yifan was watching. When Junmyeon dropped something and shuffled a few steps away from his seat to fetch it, Yifan was watching. When he rose from his seat to walk over to where Yixing was sitting to ask him a question, to avoid the remainder of the class hearing everything he was saying from speaking louder than usual, Yifan was watching.

And every time, when Junmyeon turned his head to stare back, Yifan quickly looked away from him, gluing his eyes right back onto his painting. It screamed odd to Junmyeon, something so absurd that when lecture ended, Junmyeon purposefully lingered behind the rest of the class so that he could confront the professor about his behavior.

Typical of Junmyeon, there were no ill feelings. It was more so of a morbid curiosity and a gross amount of confusion. Yifan had never stared at him so much before and although it did make him feel a little uncomfortable, it puzzled him even more. Why was the professor suddenly so interested in him? Had he done something wrong? Was he making too much of a disturbance with all of his movement today?

Yifan was perched in front of the sink, rinsing out his brushes. Aside from a few stragglers packing their bags, Yixing included, the classroom was empty. Junmyeon was standing behind the other male, gripping his own dirty paintbrushes and cup of water in his small hands. Yifan didn’t seem to realize the student was standing behind him.

“Mister Wu?” Junmyeon asked. Although the man had said that Junmyeon could call him by his real name, they were still around other students, and Junmyeon knew it would be inappropriate to call him _Yifan_ in front of his peers. As he spoke, he reached out with one hand to gently tap the man on the shoulder. Yifan jumped violently in response, sloshing water all over the counter in the process as he whirled around. Junmyeon instantly held his hands up defensively. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!”

Yifan just exhaled heavily, willing his heart to stop racing, as he turned his attention back onto the brushes he was working on rinsing underneath the flow of water. Junmyeon could see the once clear liquid running a shade of deep purple due to the paint, gurgling as it ran down the drain. “What is it?”

“I just needed to ask you something,” Junmyeon started, shyness beginning to paint his voice now as he began to fidget with his art supplies. Unknown to the two of them, Yixing had paused in packing up his bag to give them a curious look from across the room. The other students had left by now. It was only the three of them remaining, and Junmyeon seemed to have forgotten that Yixing was waiting on him. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but… You kept staring at me all class period. Did I do something wrong?”

Yifan paused in rinsing out his brushes to slowly glance over at Junmyeon. Knowing that he had been caught, he didn’t bother to try to lie, merely staring at the younger male for a long moment. “No. You didn’t do anything wrong, Junmyeon. I was just thinking about some things.”

“Like what?” Junmyeon asked, pure innocence in his voice and glazed across his face as he blinked up at the taller man. He offered the professor a cheeky smile. “Was it about Saturday? I had a nice time.”

“I guess you could say that.” Yifan let out a rather awkward cough then, his gaze roaming, looking everywhere _but_ Junmyeon’s face, as if he was embarrassed. Finally, he at last let his eyes settle on Junmyeon’s own. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, if I did. I was a bit distracted. I apologize. Um. By the way, Junmyeon, since you’re here…”

Junmyeon blinked at him, absently tilting his head slightly to one side in silent questioning. Yifan opened his mouth. He seemed to be debating on something for a long moment, before he simply closed it again, eyes averting as the sound of running water drowned out the silence.

“What is it?” Junmyeon asked nervously. He suddenly slapped a hand over his mouth. “Wait, do I have something in my teeth? I knew I shouldn’t have eaten right before I came her—“

“It isn’t that,” Yifan blurted out, interrupting him. He seemed awfully conflicted, fighting with himself mentally on whether or not to say what was on the tip of his tongue. At last, Yifan just sighed shaking his head. “Never mind.”

“Are you sure?” Junmyeon asked hesitantly, able to tell something was bothering the older man.

“I’m sure. Don’t worry about it,” Yifan mumbled, turning his head so that he could glance back down at his brushes. He moved aside, grabbing a few paper towels to dry the bristles. With the sink empty, Junmyeon stepped forward to begin cleaning his own paintbrushes. “It isn’t important… By the way, Junmyeon, that’s a rather interesting shirt.”

Rinsing out his brushes, Junmyeon blinked in confusion as he glanced down at himself. He then suddenly laughed as he was greeted by the white sweatshirt he was wearing. It was slowly growing colder and colder as the weeks passed, fall weather slamming into the area full force. At least with a sweatshirt on, he didn’t have to carry around a jacket. The only thing was that his sweatshirt wasn’t exactly the most common design in the entire world. Despite being a simplistic white, it was adorned with tons of little black and pink cartoon rabbits.

“Yeah, I know. It’s kinda childish, isn’t it?” Junmyeon just shrugged his shoulders as he squeezed the bristles of his brush, blue dripping out of them. “It’s really warm and comfy though. And I really like bunnies, so that’s a plus too. My mom bought it for me a few years ago.”

“I see,” Yifan said quietly, seeming unsure of how to proceed. Junmyeon wasn’t surprised. He had long ago learned that Yifan was not filled with the urge to mindlessly chatter.

“Yours is interesting too though,” Junmyeon commented then. Yifan’s head almost instantly snapped to one side to give him an odd look. “It’s so bright.”

“Ah…” Yifan began, glancing down at his own shirt, colored bright pink. “Interesting in a bad way?”

“Well, no, not exactly,” Junmyeon replied, optimism lining his voice as always. He gave the professor a warm smile. “It’s just different, I guess. I do think you would look more handsome in red though.”

In meager seconds, Yifan’s neck and ears flushed a shade that was apparently very flattering on him.

“Well,” Junmyeon continued, seeming oblivious to the man’s reaction as he turned off the sink, reaching over Yifan to grab some paper towels. Drying his bristles, he turned on his heel, pausing for only a moment to give Yifan his trademark smile. “I gotta get going. See you on Wednesday!”

Just like that, Junmyeon scurried away. Yifan turned in time to see the student scampering over to Yixing, chattering to him with that big grin on his face. Junmyeon seemed to be back to his normal happy-go-lucky self. Yifan, on the other hand, was dissolving into a complete and utter mess.

Junmyeon just didn’t know it yet.

* * *

“I still can’t believe he wore a bright pink shirt today to class,” Junmyeon drawled, referring to Yifan. He was kicking a stray pebble with the toe of his sneaker and laughing. “He looked like one of those candies they start selling during Valentine’s Day.”

“It did look a little odd,” Yixing agreed softly. He paused for a moment, gaze slowly drifting over to his friend. “Speaking of Kris, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure,” Junmyeon chirped in reply. He was obviously in a good mood. “What’s up?”

“What’s the deal between you two?” Yixing asked bluntly, eyes narrowing just a little in suspicion.

“What do you mean?” Junmyeon questioned, not following. He frowned a bit. “There’s nothing going on between us. I’m allowed to talk to him, right?”

“Junmyeon, you _flirted_ with him,” Yixing pressed, eyebrows furrowing together.

“What?” Junmyeon deadpanned, cheeks flushing slightly. He shook his head rapidly, raising his hands up before his chest in a self-defensive gesture. “D-Don’t be ridiculous! We were just talking!”

“Junmyeon, I heard you guys talking, and you _definitely_ flirted with him. You literally told him he would look attractive in a certain color,” Yixing continued, pursing his lips together. “You guys weren’t exactly quiet, either, so don’t even say I was eavesdropping. You forgot I was even there, either way.”

“I was just trying to be nice,” Junmyeon said meekly. “I wasn’t hitting on him.”

“Really?” Yixing continued, obviously not buying it. He frowned. “Junmyeon, look, I’m not trying to be nosy. But I can tell there’s something going on. Even if you didn’t intend to, you flirted with him, and seeing that Kris never compliments anyone about anything, it sounds like he was trying to flirt with you. And if that isn’t enough, something else must have happened for you two to be this comfortable around each other.”

“Nothing has happened between us,” Junmyeon babbled, trying to defend himself. His cheeks were flushing against his will, just like they always did when he lied and was trying to hide crucial details.

“So apparently having a ‘nice time’ over the weekend doesn’t count?” Yixing asked bluntly, having heard every word of their conversation when he had been waiting for Junmyeon to clean out his brushes.

“We just—We just talked. We ate, talked, and went to a museum, and that was it,” Junmyeon rambled, cheeks stained red as he realized he was officially backed into a corner. The sudden interrogation made him nervous, and when Junmyeon was anxious, he talked. And typically, he talked _way_ too much…like right now.

“Wait—You guys went on a _date_?” Yixing spluttered, stopping dead in his tracks to stare at his friend.

“It wasn’t like that at all! I was just… I was really upset, okay? I had a total mental breakdown in front of him and he was just trying to cheer me up. It wasn’t a date,” Junmyeon pressed, his voice desperate. “He was just trying to help me. Why does it matter?”

“It matters a lot. Junmyeon, we’re friends. You know that. I’m just trying to look out for you, because if this is heading the way I think it is, you’re making a big mistake,” Yixing warned. “Having a crush on your teacher is one thing, but trying to date them is a whole other ball game.”

“I already told you it wasn’t a date!” Junmyeon said, struggling to keep his voice down so that the passersby’s would not hear him. “And I _don’t_ have a crush on him. For the last time, there is nothing, _nothing_ going on between us. Okay?”

“Junmyeon—“

“Yixing, I swear, it’s nothing. Please just let it go,” Junmyeon practically pleaded. “This is really embarrassing. I _promise_ you, there’s nothing going on between us. Alright?”

Yixing stared at him, obviously suspicious of the other’s words. After a long period of just staring at Junmyeon, taking in his bright red and embarrassed face, Yixing’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Fine.” Yixing sighed softly. “I believe you. I know I sound pushy, and I’m sorry, but I’m just worried about you. You two are getting weirdly close lately. I know you like to make friends, but you need to be careful. Kris is our professor, Junmyeon. Things don’t work the same way.”

“I know,” Junmyeon replied honestly. “But you don’t have to worry, okay? There’s nothing going on between us, and there won’t ever be.”

“If you say so,” Yixing told him, hesitant and unsure. It sounded like he still didn’t entirely believe Junmyeon, as if he knew something Junmyeon didn’t. He’d keep his mouth shut, but that didn’t mean he was going to walk around blind. Something odd was going on, and now that he had noticed it, Yixing wasn’t going to let it simply pass by without recognition.

“I do say so. Now stop worrying,” Junmyeon said, hands absently gripping his backpack straps as the two continued to travel down the sidewalk. He did say so; there was no way he would ever fall for someone like Yifan! That was just plain silly. There was nothing going on between them, and there never would be. Simple. It wasn’t like he could ever fall for the grumpy art professor anyway, equipped with a stoic face and a tall frame and warm hands.

His heart skipped a beat, and Junmyeon did his best not to pay it any mind.

* * *

Yifan was losing his mind. There was no way all of this was simply a coincidence, and Yifan was driving himself insane thinking about it all. Junmyeon _had_ to have been teasing him. There was no other explanation for it at this point.

For example, there was that day in class. Yifan had tried to ask the boy if he wanted to hang out again sometime, but had chickened out at the last second. Perhaps that was for the best, because had not been aware that Yixing had been lingering in the front of the room, watching the two of them. It had been a grossly close call. Still, Yifan had tried to hit on him, so that was a potential problem. He did know, however, that he was _awful_ when it came to flirting. He could only hope that Yixing thought he was merely complimenting Junmyeon’s fashion choices.

But it was horribly obvious that Junmyeon had tried to flirt back on _purpose._ There was no other way to label the fact that Junmyeon had literally called him handsome right to his face.

That was strike one.

Junmyeon had been making it a habit of coming to see him on Tuesdays, asking for advice about his paintings. Yifan never minded. Being a professor, it was his job to help advise his students. Giving Junmyeon some guidance on his work was just a part of his career.

Things, however, had taken such a wild turn during their last meeting that Yifan’s mind had started spinning.

_“You have to remember that the trees here will reflect off the surface of the lake,” Yifan told him, tapping the surface of Junmyeon’s canvas with the handle of one of his paintbrushes. He was, as usual, munching away on a donut as he talked with Junmyeon. Powder was dusted upon his shirt collar, white and obvious, just like it had been on the first day of classes. “So that will change the color of the lake’s surface.”_

_“Oh, okay. That makes sense,” Junmyeon hummed, tapping a finger absently to his lips as he stared down at his painting. He glanced over at Yifan in time to see the man sucking lingering powder off of his thumb. “Um. Yifan?”_

_Sometimes he had forgotten that he had told Junmyeon that he was allowed to call him by his real name. Junmyeon still called him ‘mister Wu’ during class, but when they were alone, Junmyeon did not hesitate in calling him by his birth name. It made Yifan’s stomach flop nearly every time. Still, he tried not to let it show on his face as he merely quirked an eyebrow in questioning._

_“You got a little…” Junmyeon started, pointing with one finger to his own mouth. When Yifan just stared back at him, not seeming to understand, Junmyeon’s hand suddenly reached outward towards Yifan’s face. “Here, let me just…”_

_With no warning, Junmyeon reached up, unceremoniously dusting the powder away that lingered near the corner of Yifan’s mouth. Yifan’s heart was immediately on overdrive, pounding away violently inside of his chest. And Junmyeon just smiled at him after he was done, dropping his hand as he leaned back in his seat, and already asking more question about his work._

And strike three came on Thursday. Junmyeon had popped into his office after lunchtime when Yifan had his office hours, a big smile on the boy’s face.

_“They had donuts in the cafeteria today,” Junmyeon told him, reaching into his backpack before extracting a small parcel, wrapped in paper towels. “I know you really like the custard filled ones so I thought this would cheer you up today. I can’t talk now though; I’m in a big hurry. But I hope you like it! I’ll see you later!”_

Three strikes, and you’re out. And in this case, it was three strikes before Yifan decided it was the final straw. Every situation made Yifan want the boy more and more and _more_. What was once a mere fascination and curiosity had bloomed into something so much deeper and Yifan was falling for him. His patience was drying up. He was tired of beating around the bush. He was tired of his failed attempts of flirting with Junmyeon after class and during his office hours, only to get two big eyes blinking cutely back at him in confusion, as Junmyeon just thought he was being friendly.

Officially blinded by desire, Yifan did not bother to stop and think. Yifan was horribly impulsive as a person, and in a moment like this, it was quite dangerous. Yifan was no longer thinking about the risks. If his attempts of being nice and flirting were not getting him anywhere, then the only remaining solution was to be more direct.

What Yifan wanted, Yifan always received.

* * *

Yifan was being a little odd lately. Over the past week, Junmyeon had noticed the changes. After their little conversation about their clothing, Yifan’s behavior began to alter itself, slowly but surely. Junmyeon was not blind. He noticed the way Yifan complimented him more. He noticed the way Yifan would stand closer to him during class. He noticed the way Yifan laid a hand on his shoulder more often than he used to when giving him advice. He noticed the way Yifan was staring at him more and more by the day, like the man could see something so fascinating in Junmyeon that he couldn’t look away.

It made Junmyeon’s body feel warm for some reason, being showered with the sudden increase in attention. It made him feel even warmer when Yifan touched him. It was like the littlest physical contact between them could send his mind spiraling. A meager touch on the shoulder or accidental bump of limbs made Junmyeon feel like he was floating on some warm cloud.

Yixing’s warnings were gone from his mind as Junmyeon began to fall in, welcoming the warmth that was sprouting inside of him, and failing to realize what he was getting himself into.

He liked visiting Yifan. After their outing over the weekend, it was like a bond had formed between them. It was easier to relax around the stone-faced professor now than it used to be. It was easier to talk to him and joke with him. Junmyeon found that visiting the man’s office to talk about his work was so much more laidback now than it used to be. He used to sit so stiffly in Yifan’s office chair, still and silent as he listened to what Yifan had to say, and nervous that if he said the wrong thing, Yifan was going to bite his head off.

But the Yifan that he had come to know lately was nothing like that. Sure, Yifan was typically a cut and dry type of person. He never smiled. He never laughed. He was awfully quiet and typically only spoke if he was spoken to. But Yifan was not as strict or cold-hearted or abrasive as Junmyeon had originally thought. Perhaps it was the fact that he had already spent time with the man outside of school hours that had made it so much easier to connect with him now.

Junmyeon didn’t know, but he didn’t mind.

Something seemed off about Yifan today though. When Junmyeon had stopped by the man’s office to talk to him about his painting, as he was, once again, stuck on the lake he was painting, Yifan was acting a little strangely. Yifan was touchier than usual, almost painfully eager to wrap his hand about Junmyeon’s own to guide his paint strokes. Their chairs were closer together than usual, so close that his right knee was pressed against Yifan’s left, and Yifan made absolutely no effort to move.

Then again, Junmyeon wasn’t making any attempts to scoot over either.

“You know, it’s kinda funny,” Junmyeon commented then. Yifan, presently sipping his coffee, hummed with a full mouth in questioning. Junmyeon was tapping the handle of his paintbrush repetitively against his canvas, which was still lying atop of Yifan’s desk. “When I first met you I was actually kinda scared of you. You called me out for talking in class, remember? And you wouldn’t talk to me at all unless you had to. Look at us now! We hung out that one time and now it’s like you actually have a tongue that can be used.”

Yifan swallowed his mouthful of coffee and let out a soft snort. “Of course. I hang out with you one time and now you talk even more than you did before.”

“You make it sound like I’m a chatterbox. I’m not,” Junmyeon whined, folding his arms over his chest. When Yifan didn’t reply, Junmyeon huffed. “You’re supposed to be agreeing with me.”

“Well, I’m choosing to keep my mouth shut on this topic,” Yifan said simply. “I have no opinion.”

Junmyeon reached out and gave the man a light, playful slap on the arm, forgetting the boundary of teacher and student that was supposed to exist between them. “Oh, come _on._ Don’t be like that. Tell me I’m not a blabbermouth! And even if I am, at least lie to me and say I’m not one. It’s not like I go around and say ‘I have no opinion’ when people say you dress terribly.”

“It’s abstract,” Yifan said, giving Junmyeon a sour look. “Obviously my style of dress is too complicated for you to understand.”

“Complicated is a good word to describe it,” Junmyeon drawled in reply. He hummed, sitting up in his chair. He reached out with one hand and experimentally grabbed hold of Yifan’s shirt sleeve, feeling the fabric between his fingers. “Though to be honest, this isn’t bad. I think your clothes are getting more fashionable lately. What is this? Cotton? It’s nice.”

Yifan chose not to comment on that, nor on the fact that Junmyeon was literally gripping his the sleeve of his blue button-up in his tiny hand. He quirked an eyebrow. “My clothing looks better now?”

“Yeah. Well, anything is better than those ugly lime green shoes of yours,” Junmyeon replied. He paused for a second before it seemed to dawn on him that he had just insulted the man. “Not to be rude, or anything, but… Yeah. They’re ugly. Things have already looked better on you since you stopped wearing them.”

There was a small flash of red in the tips of Yifan’s ears. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Lime green in itself is already a horrid choice,” Junmyeon complained. Still, there was a smile on the student’s lips as he spoke. “I mean, the shirt was weird in itself, but some black shoes would have looked nice with it. You look better in red and neutrals.”

 Yifan was quiet for a long moment. He had that look on his face again, just like he had in class the other day when he had complimented Junmyeon on his bunny sweatshirt. It was as if he was thinking something over, debating it, unsure of whether or not to pursue his thoughts.

Junmyeon spoke softly. “Yifan? You okay? You’re spacing out again.”

“I know,” Yifan said quietly in response. “Just thinking.”

“What are you thinking about this time?” Junmyeon asked, lips twisting to one side. “That’s the same thing you told me last time before telling me ‘oh, it’s nothing, haha, just forget about it’, so you can’t use that excuse again.”

“Well…” Yifan started. He hesitated for a long moment, before he at last seemed to gather his courage. It was as if something clicked in his head at last, like Yifan had mentally said ‘screw it’ to himself, and decided just to let out whatever he had been holding inside for so long. He spoke again, and Junmyeon was in no way, shape, or form, prepared for it. “I was just thinking about you.”

Junmyeon blinked in surprise. “Me?”

“Well, yes. If you’re going to tell me that I look better to you in certain clothes,” Yifan said, and Junmyeon suddenly realized that the man’s voice was lower than it was meager seconds ago. When did that happen? Better yet, when had Yifan been this close to him? The man was sitting even closer to Junmyeon than he had been a moment ago, bent over so that their faces were closer together. “Then I suppose that gives me room to tell you that you look better to me when you smile.”

Something shorted out in Junmyeon’s brain.

“I—“ he began, his mouth opening and closing a couple times like a fish out of water as he merely stared at Yifan for a second. The heat was back, warm and cozy inside of him as his heart skipped a beat. His voice was a squeak of surprise. “I do?”

“You do,” Yifan murmured. His voice was so _low_ and it was sending shivers down Junmyeon’s spine, shudders of confusion and adrenaline and uncertainty because Yifan was suddenly leaning even closer to him, his eyes glazed over. “You’re very beautiful when you smile, Junmyeon.”

When did Yifan put his hand on his knee?

Junmyeon’s face was flushed red. His heart was hammering in his chest. His palms were sweating. And he had absolutely no time to even respond because, out of nowhere, Yifan suddenly leaned his head down a little more, bridging the gap between the two of them.

Yifan kissed him.

It was a small kiss, nothing more than Yifan dipping his head a little lower, his jawbone brushing against Junmyeon’s own as he placed a gentle kiss against his mouth. Junmyeon’s body felt as if it was on fire, heat and pleasure surging down his spine. Yifan’s lips were just as soft as his hands and just as warm, slotting over his own lips perfectly, kissing him so slowly and gently and—

_Yifan was kissing him._

Junmyeon’s brain launched into a state of panic immediately. Regaining his wits, Junmyeon stiffened up, his small hands instantly shooting upwards and shoving into Yifan’s chest. The man let out a surprised grunt, eyes flying open as Junmyeon shoved him away as hard as he could, his spine hitting the back of his chair with a loud thud.

“Did you just—“ Junmyeon started, cupping a hand over his mouth. “Did you just _kiss_ me?!”

It was probably a good thing that Junmyeon had, for once, closed the door when he had entered Yifan’s office, because the boy was literally screaming. However, the walls were thin, and Yifan knew it. He would be lucky if anyone didn’t overhear them.

“Junmyeon—“ Yifan started, swallowing as he sat up in his chair. “Junmyeon, wait a second, I—“

“I can’t believe you just _kissed_ me,” Junmyeon spluttered in embarrassment and disbelief, fumbling for his bag. Clutching it in one hand, Junmyeon rocketed out of his seat, grabbing his painting with the other. The student’s face was burning a bright red. “I don’t even _know_ you like that, I—I—I gotta go.”

“Junmyeon, hang on,” Yifan began once more, desperation in his voice, but it was already too late.

Junmyeon had practically sprinted for the door, throwing it open so quickly it was a wonder he didn’t rip it off its hinges, before the student bolted out of the room. Yifan was officially alone in his office, staring stupidly at the empty doorway.

And although Yifan, in his office, could not see it, Junmyeon was running out of the building as fast as he could go, one hand clutched absently over his mouth. His insides were a mesh of emotions he did not understand, and Junmyeon was panicking, unsure of what to do.

His lips were still tingling, and that scared him more than anything else in the entire word right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 25 Sep 2016


	12. Concept

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ CONCEPT ]_
> 
> _a scheme; a plan. An idea_

He couldn’t stop touching his mouth.

Holed up inside of his dorm room, Junmyeon’s body still felt as if it was burning. Ever since Yifan had kissed him, Junmyeon’s skin was so awfully warm, despite the fact that he had long ago pushed the man away from him. It was as if he could still feel Yifan against him, his lips pressed against his own, his large hand resting on his knee, his skin brushing against Junmyeon’s own as he closed the distance between them.

Even now, two hours later, there were goose bumps crawling down Junmyeon’s arms just from thinking about it. His lips were still tingling, just like they had when Yifan kissed him, as if the man’s mouth was still pressed against his in a soft, warm kiss. He still couldn’t believe that the professor had kissed him.

All of a sudden the world felt like it was spinning too fast. Yifan must have liked him; Yifan must have _really_ liked him to suddenly kiss him like that. And what scared Junmyeon was that he had no idea that the man had feelings from him until now. How long had Yifan been harboring those emotions inside of his heart? How long had he been bottling them up in silence before he finally just kissed Junmyeon like he had? How long had he keeping all of this a secret? And one thing Junmyeon was now beginning to ask himself was whether or not he liked the man back.

Did he?

Sehun hadn’t returned to their dorm yet, so Junmyeon was completely alone inside of their room, and he had never been more grateful. The solitude and silence gave him a better opportunity to think over what had happened to him earlier. There was no way he was going to tell his friends what Yifan had done. The other boys already trashed Yifan enough in their conversations; Junmyeon did not want to add more fuel to the fire. Better yet, he didn’t want them to know that something was brewing between him and the professor.

Perched on his bed, Junmyeon whined softly to himself. He had his back resting against the wall, and his blanket wrapped around him. One edge was resting atop of his head like a hood, and Junmyeon held the remaining fabric around his torso like a coat. Engulfed in the soft material, Junmyeon stared down at his toes, heart thumping audibly in his chest as he, yet again, reached up to trace his fingers over his lips.

He felt so confused. Junmyeon knew he liked boys, so that wasn’t the issue, but there were so many other things surrounding the situation that made him feel so horribly uncertain.

Their personalities. His cheery and happy-go-lucky attitude was a stark contrast to Yifan’s constant scowl and dry, cold demeanor. They were absolutely nothing alike. Their lifestyles. He was a student, and Yifan was a professor. That in itself was already a huge factor. How could something like this _possibly_ work anyway when they were so different? Junmyeon had no idea.

But one thing Junmyeon did know was that he was able to see Yifan in a different light than everyone else seemed to. The other students loved to curse Yifan’s name, insult him, spread rumors about him. Those had, from the beginning, made Junmyeon feel uncomfortable. Sure, Junmyeon was not a fan of gossip to begin with, but after he had gotten to know Yifan a little more, it made him feel even more uneasy. The man was not nearly as monstrous as people painted him, and it made Junmyeon feel even more nauseated these days to hear such awful things floating around campus about the professor.

The two of them seemed to have formed a bond, small as it was. Yifan had been so lifeless when Junmyeon had first met him, equipped with nothing but scowls and clipped words and cold eyes and a stiff body. But lately, ever since he and Yifan had spent some time together, _something_ seemed to have kindled between them. Although Junmyeon had never heard the man laugh or saw him smile, he still managed to pry a bit of Yifan’s personality out and into the open. He had seen Yifan show anger and exhaustion. He had seen Yifan show his love for something he liked when the man had explained the parts of the motorcycle. He had seen so many dimensions of Yifan when the two of them had hung out that one fateful Saturday, from empathy to compassion to the slightest bit of amusement. It was as if now the two of them could interact without a problem, like they had known each other for so much longer than only a month. That was a good sign and Junmyeon knew it.

But one key issue was that they knew so little about one another.

Yifan had to have been older than him, but Junmyeon didn’t know the man’s age. In fact, he didn’t know _anything_ about the man. Sure, he had told Yifan some of his past, but it was not nearly his entire life story, and Yifan had not told him a single thing about his history yet. He didn’t know how old Yifan was, what made him want to teach, where he grew up, his favorite animal, or _anything_. And besides the small snippets of his life that Junmyeon had shared with Yifan, the man knew absolutely nothing about him either.

How could Yifan fall for him – or better yet, how could he fall for Yifan – when they were practically strangers?

Junmyeon was silent, his brain brewing a never-ending onslaught of thoughts. Wrapped up inside of his blanket, something, after a long moment, seemed to click inside of his head. Junmyeon looked up then, slowly casting a glance across the room. His laptop was sitting abandoned upon his desk. Junmyeon hesitated for a second before practically throwing his blanket aside as he scrambled to fetch his computer. After precariously leaning over the edge of his bed, and somehow managing not to go tumbling off face first, Junmyeon grabbed his laptop and went scrambling back towards his previous spot.

Perhaps he didn’t know anything about Yifan, but who said it had to stay that way?

Flopping down onto the bed on his stomach, Junmyeon stretched himself out comfortably as he booted up his laptop. As he waited, he grabbed at his blankets, burrowing down underneath them as he propped his torso up a bit with the help of his elbows.

He honestly didn’t even know where to start. Junmyeon had never tried to dig up information about someone online before, and it did make him feel weird, and even a bit creepy, that he was attempting such a thing. Ignoring the lull in his belly, Junmyeon continued to fiddle with his laptop, currently scrolling down the page for the university’s art department. With a few clicks he had wound up on the department’s staff list, and Junmyeon found himself laughing quietly as he scrolled to the very bottom, as the names were alphabetized. He could recognize those eyebrows anywhere.

There was a small photo of Yifan, complete with his furrowed dark eyebrows and neatly combed locks of black hair. Scowl locked in place, Yifan’s gaze was brutally cold, even in a picture. And next to it was a simple block of text. _Wu Yifan, professor_ , Junmyeon read mentally, gazing for a brief moment at the remaining information regarding Yifan’s office, including his location, hours, phone number, and his email.

Of course, those were all things Junmyeon already knew. Humming softly to himself, Junmyeon tinkered around on the art department’s page for a while, combing through the different pages and links until he found something interesting. There was a tab that Junmyeon hadn’t noticed before, labeled _what’s new?_ in the same simplistic black text. Curiosity striking him, Junmyeon clicked on it.

He was instantly greeted by a new webpage, filled with nothing but news and updates about what was going on within the art department lately. Nosiness getting the best of him, Junmyeon scrolled to the bottom of the page. He saw another assortment of links, all stacked neatly atop of one another. And every single one was an archive, leading back to the years before Junmyeon had ever even _thought_ about enrolling at the university.

Junmyeon opened them all up in new tabs.

In a way, it was rather amazing. Even though Junmyeon had not nearly been old enough to attend the school until the past two years or so, the archives on the website allowed him to go back in time and see what had happened in the university while he had been younger. Granted, the archives for the department only went back ten years, but still, that was a pretty big feat. That was an entire decade’s worth of history and events and details that Junmyeon would now have the chance to see and learn more about, and the mere thought of it made his heart flutter with excitement.

Junmyeon didn’t read every single article he found hiding within the archives. He would be there for ages otherwise, but he did make sure to skim over every single hyperlink to see what had happened. There were links about various art shows, students that had won awards or had their work featured in exhibitions, professors that had accomplished new and exciting things or had been promoted, and various projects that had functioned within the department.

And out of the blue, Junmyeon saw the title of an article that made his heart stop. There, in the same familiar black text, was: ‘ _Wu Yifan Joins Art Department Faculty’._

His eyes instantly went to check the date, and his eyes widened. It was from just before the start of fall semester six years ago. Junmyeon hurriedly clicked on the article, absently biting at the nails that lined the fingers of his non-dominant hand as he anxiously waited for the page to load. And when it did, Junmyeon couldn’t help the look of pure shock that crossed his face.

Right there, plastered across the screen, was a photograph of Yifan. And, of all the expressions in the world, Junmyeon had not been expecting this one. Fitted in a simplistic white button-up and a black blazer, Yifan’s face was absolutely _glowing_ in a big, warm smile.

Never before in his life had Junmyeon ever see the man smile, and it was as if he was viewing a different person. But it was the exact same human being and Junmyeon could see the little similarities. Yifan had the same messy short locks of black hair, the same nose, the same lips. But unlike their typical frown, they were pulled upwards in a grin, parted so that Junmyeon could see a line of straight white teeth and the flash of pink gums. Even his eyes seemed different, crinkled up around the corners and twinkling.

How on earth could this possibly be the same grumpy, scowling, cold man that he knew? Swallowing, and struggling to shake that thought from his mind and ignore the odd feeling sprouting within his insides, Junmyeon began to read.

_The Department of Art has recently hired Wu Yifan – or more commonly known by his nickname “Kris” – for the position of assistant professor. Wu has received his master of fine arts in art practices, and has mentioned that he developed a keen interest in various art forms since he was old enough to hold a pencil._

_As an undergraduate, Wu was originally a business major. After two years of working towards his degree, Wu changed his major to studio art. Despite his success in his original major, and the constant push from peers to keep on the same path, Wu decided to instead follow his passion and dreams by becoming an art major._

_Wu has mentioned that ever since childhood, art has been a primary source of enjoyment and fascination for him. He finds pleasure in being able to release the creations that linger within his imagination and instead place them onto paper or a canvas for the eyes of the remainder of the world to see. While he enjoys seeing his ideas come to life, Wu is also eager to improve._

_“Art is special to me. Creating things is such a wonderful part of life, you know? There’s something oddly satisfying about being able to churn out things that you see in your mind and somehow produce a copy of them in reality so other people can see the same thing you do,” Wu commented last Friday. “And art has such a big emotional impact. For me, I am able to release what I am feeling when I paint. And yet, even when I create something, my work will, somehow or another, make someone else experience a range of emotions of their own. It’s a magical thing indeed. I am far from perfect, and I always want to be a better artist, but for now, I am doing all that I can. All I can do is work harder to be the best that I can be.”_

_This fall, Wu will be teaching introduction to painting, elements of design, and art appreciation. Aside from painting, Wu’s interests include motorcycle riding, astronomy, and basketball. Students are more than welcome to contact him at his email or visit him in his office._

Junmyeon released a breath that he hadn’t realized that he had been holding.

It felt as if the world had suddenly stopped turning. Even though the article had been short, it allowed Junmyeon to see so much information that had previously been shrouded in mystery. He knew that Yifan drove a motorcycle, but he had no idea that Yifan liked basketball or harbored interest in the stars and planets that loomed in their night sky. He didn’t know that Yifan used to be a business major. There were so many aspects to Yifan’s personality and life that Junmyeon knew absolutely nothing about, still shrouded in mystery, and it made him feel so _weird._

He literally knew absolutely nothing about the professor.

Combing through the list of events, Junmyeon officially dove headfirst into finding out everything about Yifan that he could. He didn’t see other articles focused solely on the man, but he did find him lingering in the photographs that were plastered on other pages. For example, on the listings about art shows and student exhibitions, there was Yifan, lingering in the background of the pictures and either eyeing the artwork or chatting with students or his colleagues. He even managed to spot Luhan in one of the pictures as well. He and Yifan were huddled together in the background, laughing about something as the two of them studied a painting that was hanging on the wall of the department’s exhibition room.

Junmyeon couldn’t help but wonder, deep down, if he would ever get to see Yifan laugh like that.

As he wrapped up the articles and began on combing through the ones that were dated from the next year, Junmyeon could feel his trail slowly growing cold. There was nothing different about the pages that now greeted him, filled with the same type of information that he had already seen.

There was, however, one post that brought Junmyeon’s world to a screeching halt. Dated from over five years ago, the title of the article seemed harmless enough, ‘ _On View: 8 th Annual Art Faculty Exhibition’ _written in simplistic lettering. Even the body paragraphs were normal.

 __Deus ex Machina  
8 th Annual Art Faculty Exhibition  
Wednesday, November 9  
Reception 4-5:30 PM

Even the collection of photographs that accompanied the article did not catch his eye, as Junmyeon’s focus was gridlocked onto one person only as he scrolled down the page. Junmyeon barely registered the painting in the picture, instead coming face-to-face with a grumpy expression and dark, furrowed eyebrows. It was Yifan, his trademark scowl plastered across his face, and an odd glint of what looked like pure _agony_ in his eyes.

And Junmyeon felt a drop in his stomach as he instantly understood why.

Standing in the exhibition hall, Yifan was perched beside his painting as it hung, at home, on the plain white wall behind him. Junmyeon hardly noticed the little plaque that was suspended beneath the painting, small letters of _Voices III, by Wu Yifan_ carved in a neat little row. Instead, Junmyeon had his gaze locked with the professor, swallowing uncomfortably.

Yifan was a _mess._

Although the man typically carried himself with great posture, Yifan in the photograph was slouched over a bit, as if he was trying to take some of the weight off of his back. His left arm was suspended in a sling, the strap resting around his neck. There was a walking cast on his right leg, Velcro straps holding it in place as the top ended a bit below his knee. Yifan was wearing a shirt with three-quarter length sleeves, and Junmyeon could see, plain as day, an array of dark, ugly bruises running down his arm and stamped into his wrist and the back of his hand. He could even see the hints of bruises protruding from the neckline of his shirt.

“What _happened_ to you?” Junmyeon mumbled to himself in the empty dorm room, his eyebrows turning heavenward and forehead creasing with a worried frown. There, of course, were no details on the page about what the professor had gone through to sustain such injuries, and even as Junmyeon backtracked to try to find out more information, he was hitting nothing but dead ends. His heart felt so heavy all of a sudden in his chest, and Junmyeon did not like it one bit.

Of course, even though he continued to search, the university’s website did not provide him with any further clues. Junmyeon combed through more recent entries and even then he did not discover anything else, merely finding Yifan lingering in the photographs as always, his face dark with his typical frown. The man that Junmyeon had seen smiling from a six year old photograph had vanished.

Licking his lips, an uncomfortable lull in his stomach, Junmyeon instead opened a new tab and made the decision that he needed to dig deeper. Perhaps it was odd that he was literally about to search the entire internet for any information about his professor that he could find, but Junmyeon’s curiosity was officially peaked, and he wanted to know more.

Even though the man went by _Kris_ on campus, Junmyeon decided to look up _Wu Yifan_ instead, knowing anything official would be more likely to pop up that way. Junmyeon was chewing worriedly on his lower lip as he scrolled through the pages, clicking on everything he could find that held the man’s name, whether it be on a school-related site or otherwise.

And seeing some things _hurt_ him, like the reviews he found on one of the websites that Zitao had told him about a few weeks prior.

_‘I have no idea why this man is even a professor.’ ‘Kris can be very condescending and he is not afraid of making an example out of you in front of the entire class.’ ‘He’s extremely strict. He’s rude. And he grades unreasonably tough.’ ‘He doesn’t even have good social skills. Why he’s even teaching is beyond me.’ ‘I’ve never met a man so horrible in my entire life.’_

It was so hard to swallow, seeing Yifan’s name being dragged through the mud like that, reviews and comments tearing him down peg by peg. A large chunk of him wished he had never even looked. Shaking his head slightly to himself, Junmyeon hurriedly clicked out of all of those tabs, instead trying to focus on what else lurked within the pages of the search engine.

He searched and he searched. It felt like an eternity before Junmyeon found anything that ventured outside of the university. Some articles that Junmyeon found were actually a bit cute, like the one he found about Yifan winning an award in high school for one of his paintings, complete with a photograph of the boy wearing that same big cheesy grin on his face.

Others, however, were not so heartwarming.

Junmyeon almost didn’t notice it at first, too busy combing through the other hyperlinks and pages that popped out of him. And when Junmyeon at last noticed the name of the article at the bottom of the screen, several pages back, he had to do a double take. _‘Man Severely Injured After Late Night Crash’_ seemed to stare back at him, taunting him from the bottom of the screen.

“ _What_?” Junmyeon whispered, voice hoarse as his eyes unconsciously widened at the site. With a clumsy fumbling of his fingers, Junmyeon hurriedly clicked on the link, opening it up in a new tab. Swallowing anxiously, Junmyeon felt every ounce of heat drain out of him, instead leaving his body a cold and hollow shell as he was greeted by a photograph at the top of the page. “Oh my _god.”_

Junmyeon could just barely make out the destroyed remnants of a motorcycle. Through the darkness of night, he could see glass and metal strewn across the road, the framework of the bike crunched inward on itself, pieces torn clean off and decorating the street as the totaled vehicle lay unmoving. He could see the hood of a car, dented inward, windshield shattered.

Junmyeon swallowed as he lowered his gaze, at last gathering the courage to read.

_A motorcyclist was severely injured Thursday night after an intersection crash._

_Authorities said that the incident occurred just after eleven p.m. when the rider, identified as Wu Yifan, was traveling northbound. It has been reported that a car, traveling eastbound at the intersection, collided with his motorcycle._

_Witnesses at the scene reported that the driver of the car ran a red light prior to the crash. According to authorities, speed and alcohol are also possible factors that contributed to the accident. The driver of the car was treated for minor injuries. Charges against him are currently pending._

_Wu Yifan, 26, was driving a red Harley-Davidson Softail. He is currently listed in critical condition._

It all suddenly made sense, and against his will, Junmyeon felt the warmth of hot, salty tears swimming in his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he tried to urge them away, but even then, he couldn’t shake the awful feeling that had settled inside of him. The situation _terrified_ him. Based on that story and that picture, Yifan was lucky to even be alive. And as he glanced at the date, everything instantly fell into place as to why Yifan had looked so miserable in that exhibition photograph. The date of the crash was from five years ago, less than a week prior to the art show.

Trying to choke down the knot of emotion that was swelling up in his throat, Junmyeon blinked rapidly, at last managing to fight back his tears, even though a few managed to escape. Sniffing, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as he reached out and closed his laptop. He had enough for one day. This was already too much for him to swallow at once. Regardless, Sehun would be back any second, and Junmyeon really didn’t want to explain to him why he was sitting around searching for Yifan’s past on his computer.

He had wanted to know more about Yifan, and now that he did, Junmyeon wasn’t quite sure if he could handle what he knew. The boy was chewing absently on his lower lip as he adjusted his weight on the bed, leaning over so that he could deposit his laptop on his desk. He then flopped over on his mattress, eyes glued to his ceiling as a torrent of ideas and opinions thrashed around inside of his head.

Unable to clear his mind, Junmyeon grabbed his pillow and dragged it over his face, moaning pathetically into it as he began to drown in an endless haze of thoughts and feelings. Perhaps the worst thing of all was that his lips, even as they were pressed against the soft fabric of his pillow, were still tingling from Yifan’s kiss.

* * *

_Kris (6:01 PM)  
Can you do me a favor?_

_Luhan (6:07 PM)_  
See, there’s this great word called ‘please’.  
You should learn it sometime.  
Regardless… What do you need?

_Kris (6:13 PM)  
I need you to help me fake my own death._

_What the hell?_ Luhan thought to himself, frowning down at his phone. That was odd. Sure, he had been friends with the other man long enough to know that his friend could be a little overdramatic at times, but this was a bit much, even for him.

Luhan did not hesitate in dialing the man’s number before putting his phone up to his ear. There was a ring, then two, and on the third, Luhan at last heard a click as Yifan picked up.

“What do you mean ‘help you fake your own death’?” Luhan asked instantly, not even bothering to give Yifan the chance to say hello.

 _“See, that’s the thing. I don’t want to actually die, ya know? But if I’m still around, then this entire situation can be used against me_ ,” Yifan replied. He was nervous about something. Luhan could tell by the way he was speaking faster than normal. _“So naturally, the next step is for me to fake my own death and drop off the radar before things get any worse.”_

“Worse?” Luhan arched an eyebrow as he adjusted his weight on his couch. Sitting in front of his television with one of his cats in his lap, he couldn’t move very far.

 _“Yeah, worse,”_ Yifan confirmed. He coughed awkwardly into the receiver. _“If Junmyeon thinks I’m dead then maybe he won’t file a sexual harassment complaint against me.”_

“A sexu—“ Luhan started in disbelief, his eyes wide as he practically screamed at his friend. “Kris, what the _hell_ did you do?!”

 _“I didn’t mean to! I just wasn’t thinking clearly. I was getting so impatient and the kid kept teasing the hell out of me, and I…”_ Yifan started, voice dropping as if he was ashamed. _“I… I kissed him…when he was in my office…”_

“You did _what?!”_ Luhan shrieked, jerking so badly in his spot that he successfully woke up his cat, ignoring its confused yowls as he shouted into his phone. “Kris, what were you _thinking_?! You can’t do that! He’s your _student!”_

 _“I wasn’t thinking, alright?! You know how I get sometimes! God, he just kept teasing me to no end and I couldn’t take it anymore! How is it fair that he can hit on me nonstop but it’s inappropriate for me to do it to him or kiss him even though he kept calling me handsome?”_ Yifan ranted, practically yelling in return. _“I know he’s my student and I know I’m not supposed to touch him let alone kiss him but I just couldn’t help it, okay?! God, I… I like him. I really, really like him, and it’s going to bite me in the ass. Just watch, he’s gonna go report me for this and I’m gonna get fired.”_

“Kris—Kris, listen to me. You need to calm down. Stressing yourself into an early grave over this is not going to help you. Look,” Luhan sighed out, “you know me well enough to be aware by now that I’m not going to say anything to anyone about this. Junmyeon does not seem like the type to tattle about people, but you never know, especially after what you did to him. If he keeps his mouth shut, then good, that’s one step closer to you being safe for now. But even so, you have to realize that now that you have done this action that you can’t take back, you’re officially on a rocky slope with him. I hope you understand that Junmyeon could bring this up to administration months from now and it could still be used against you.”

 _“You aren’t helping!”_ Yifan hollered, his voice a pained whine. _“How can you tell me to calm down and then bring stuff like this up and make me panic even more?!”_

“I’m giving you a reality check! You screwed up and you need to realize that your actions can have a bad consequence,” Luhan gritted out, reaching up with his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He sighed heavily. “Kris, listen to me. If you’re lucky, then this will blow over, and Junmyeon won’t mention it to anyone. But you need to stop. He’s your student, Kris, and you and I both know getting attached to a student can be some highly dangerous waters.”

 _“But…”_ Luhan couldn’t deny that there was disappointment in Yifan’s voice. _“But I like him…”_

“And you need to get over it because you can’t have him,” Luhan replied. He knew his words were cold and unforgiving but it was the truth. “Junmyeon may be over eighteen so it is perfectly legal for the two of you to date, but you need to remember, that since he is your student, dating him would be nothing but problems. You need to let him go.”

 _“I don’t want to let him go. I just now got attracted to him and you expect me to drop him?”_ Yifan asked in disbelief. _“Luhan, I just… I just don’t get it. You know I’m not good at this stuff. What if he likes me back? He wouldn’t have teased me so much if he didn’t like me, right?”_

“Kris…” Luhan began, sighing once more. “Look. I do not want to be involved in this. I’ve already warned you. Junmyeon is over eighteen but you do not need to be chasing after him. You’ve already kissed him and put yourself in a bad predicament and could yourself into a lot of trouble from that alone. If Junmyeon doesn’t report you, then you’re lucky as it is, but you’re only going to be pushing your luck by going after him. If he doesn’t report you to administration for kissing him, then he sure as hell can report you for sexual harassment by constantly flirting with him and trying to get him to go out with you. You need to stop. _Now._ I don’t care if he likes you back or not or whatever it is that’s going on between the two of you, but you are the adult here, and you should know better. Let him go.”

_“But Luhan—“_

“No, Kris.” Luhan pulled his phone away from his ear, finger already hovering over the end call button. “End of discussion. I don’t want to hear anything else about this.”

The last thing Luhan heard was a strangled cry from Yifan as he hung up.

* * *

Yifan let out a frustrated sound as he threw his phone onto his couch. How could Luhan just hang up on him like that?! This was serious! The guy always complained that Yifan never talked to him enough, and the one time Yifan finally tried to go to him for advice, Luhan pushed him away?

Sighing heavily, Yifan flopped down onto his couch and buried his face into his hands.

This was bad. Yifan had officially toppled overboard, losing himself in his emotions and the situation at hand. He knew that Luhan had a point. Junmyeon was his student, and even if the boy was old enough, dating him would be horribly awkward and complicated. Legal, but complex. But… Yifan couldn’t shake the boy from his head. Yifan hadn’t been able to hold back anymore when he kissed Junmyeon, practically suffocating in desire as he at last threw caution to the wind and just went after what he wanted.

He wanted Junmyeon _bad._

How on earth was it fair, though? Junmyeon had been flirting with him nonstop lately and it was suddenly so wrong of him to at last swallow his fear and just go for it. It was perfectly acceptable for Junmyeon to hit on him and touch him but when Yifan stepped up to the plate and tried to do it himself, it was dirt for a sexual harassment case. And it was so _frustrating!_ If Junmyeon could flirt with him, why couldn’t he flirt back? Yifan knew he wasn’t talented in the field of flirtation and dating, but if one party was pushing, why was it so wrong for him to pull?

Junmyeon had to at least like him a _little_ to treat him that way. There were no other explanations in Yifan’s mind. The flirting. Junmyeon calling him handsome. The boy’s small fingers touching his shirt. Those shy little smiles Junmyeon gave him that Yifan had not seen him give anyone else, gazing up at him through those dark eyelashes. It was as if all of those things were reserved for him alone, and it was driving Yifan absolutely wild.

But perhaps…Junmyeon did not like him at all. Yifan could still hear his shrieks in the back of his mind as he shoved the professor away, a hand cupped over his mouth as he stared at Yifan with disbelieving eyes.

_“Did you just kiss me?!”_

He had said it with such shock that even now, hours upon hours later, it still made Yifan’s heart squeeze in his chest. Perhaps he was just getting his hopes up, confusing flirtations with Junmyeon’s habit of being overly friendly. And even if the flirting and touching was all intentional, it did not change the fact that Junmyeon could use his actions against him in a complaint. Nothing changed the fact that Yifan had kissed him inappropriately within the four walls of his office and that, if it came down to it, he could in fact lose his job over that one little kiss.

Yifan’s shoulders slumped, disappointment sprouting in the cracks of his heart as he turned away from his phone, instead wandering in the direction of his kitchen so that he could finally eat something. Whether he had a chance or not, and whether Junmyeon liked him back or not, it didn’t change the fact that it had been inappropriate. A part of him knew that Luhan was right, that he should let Junmyeon go and try to move on, but Yifan was a stubborn human being.

Even if he planned on apologizing to Junmyeon for his behavior, Yifan, deep down, had already decided that he was not going to let the boy slip away without a fight.

* * *

He was standing in Yifan’s office, his lower back digging into the edge of the man’s desk. The air was warm but his skin felt oddly cold as large hands settled against his body, just like how there were a pair of lips pressed against his own.

All he could taste was coffee.

“You look so beautiful when you smile, Junmyeon.” There was a voice, deep and sounding just like his professor. There was warm breath ghosting over his face as the lips pulled away for one brief moment. “You’re so beautiful. You know that?”

The lips were back, kissing him slowly, gently. The brush of skin against skin felt so familiar, so comforting, and Junmyeon found his hands wandering, sliding up a broad back and hooking behind a warm neck, short hairs soft against his fingertips.

Somethingslid in between his legs, squeezing one of his thighs, and Junmyeon _moaned_ against the other’s mouth, loud and embarrassed as he shifted his weight backwards. The desk was hard and unforgiving against his lower back, digging into his skin through his shirt as he felt warm fingers resting against his thigh. There was the softest of chuckles against his mouth, and Junmyeon’s knees were going weak underneath him as he held on even tighter, feeling like he was about to drown any second.

Junmyeon’s eyes flew open and were greeted by darkness.

Panting loudly, Junmyeon had to stop for a moment to realize that he was in fact in his bedroom. There were no office walls surrounding him, no potted cacti plants, no wire basket full of chocolates, no _Yifan_. His entire body felt as if it was burning up and Junmyeon thrashed in his bed, violently kicking away his bedsheets, feeling as if he was roasting underneath them.

At last, free from the confinement of his blankets, Junmyeon held a hand over his heart as he breathed heavily, staring up at the ceiling as he ignored Sehun’s soft snoring. What the hell had he just dreamed?

It was as if he could still feel Yifan’s hands upon him, tracing the shape of his sides, his hips, _his thighs_. It was as if he could still feel Yifan’s lips upon him, kissing him slowly and gently and _lovingly._ It was as if he could still feel Yifan’s words ghosting over his skin, whispers against his mouth, sweet phrases being spoken into his ear.

His body was writhing against the bed as he sweated and Junmyeon desperately clutched a fistful of his shirt in one hand, trying to will away the sudden pounding of his heart. And even now, at nearly two in the morning, he could still feel the tingle from where Yifan’s mouth had been pressed against his own earlier that day.

Whimpering pathetically, Junmyeon rolled himself over onto his stomach and buried his face into his pillow, borderline debating on suffocating himself so that he could just stop thinking about it. This was not good. The lingering feeling of Yifan’s lips on his own was bad enough, but the fact that he was still dreaming about his professor was even worse. Perhaps he could lie to himself and say that he was dreaming about the man because of all the research he had done today, but based on the ghosting sensation of Yifan’s hands rubbing down his sides and touching him like that as he praised him and told him how beautiful he was, Junmyeon knew it was all so much more.

He was in so much deeper than he had ever intended to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 3 Oct 2016


	13. Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ PERSPECTIVE ]_
> 
> _a technique used to depict volumes and spatial relationships on a flat surface, as in a painted scene that appears to extend into the distance_

Getting ready for classes the following day was horribly nerve-wracking. Junmyeon could not afford to miss class when he had so much work to do, but facing Yifan was definitely going to be awkward. Yifan’s behavior – including that sudden kiss – was already enough to swallow already. However, with how Junmyeon had reacted and rushed out of the man’s office, that was going to make the atmosphere between the two of them even more uncomfortable. Throw in the fact that he knew a little more about Yifan that perhaps he wasn’t _meant_ to know just yet, that Yifan liked him, and that he liked Yifan in return a little more than he originally thought, well… Where were they going to go from here?

Needless to say that Yifan’s behavior was not quite what he had been expecting.

While over the course of the past few days, Yifan had constantly been in his personal space and staring at him, the next lecture that Junmyeon attended proved to be a total one-eighty. That behavior was suddenly gone, and it was as if he no longer existed. Yifan would not, even once, look in his direction during class, let alone come anywhere near him. He knew that things were going to be uneasy between the two of them, but he had not been _quite_ ready for the man to start ignoring him entirely.

That actually made him even more nervous than he had been before. Were things so awful that they had come down to completely ignoring one another? There was definitely no way that the two of them could dance around each other like this for the entire semester.

Junmyeon knew he had to do something.

He was rather glad that Yixing was in a hurry when lecture ended. The other boy was already suspicious enough about his behavior and forming chemistry between him and Yifan, and if Yixing saw him lingering after class to talk to the professor, it would surely attract even more unwanted attention. He was already skirting around on thin ice as it was, and if he wasn’t careful, it was going to break beneath him.

When lecture was over, Yixing hurriedly packed up his belongings and was whisked away with the crowd of other students that were rushing to get out of the room. Junmyeon was usually one of the last to leave as it was, but since Yifan was currently preoccupied, Junmyeon was stalling for as long as he could. The professor was assisting one of his classmates, the two of them quietly talking at the front of the room as Yifan was pointing out one of the flaws on the boy’s canvas. Junmyeon was packing his belongings at a meticulously slow pace, watching the pair with curious and somewhat nervous eyes. It felt like an eternity before the conversation fizzled out, and Junmyeon could feel his pulse slowly but surely increasing as his classmate exited the room. Junmyeon grabbed his backpack and exhaled, making his way towards the front of the room as Yifan busied himself with gathering his art supplies.

Well, here went nothing.

Yifan’s back was facing him as the professor collected his bottles of paint. The man was still wearing his glasses, peering absently over the rims as he busied himself with screwing the cap back onto one of the bottles. Strap of his backpack clutched in one hand, Junmyeon approached Yifan as quietly as he could. Heart pounding in his chest, staring at the man’s back, Junmyeon hesitated for a long moment before slowly reaching out and tapping Yifan on the shoulder.

And, just like last time, Yifan jumped in response, long fingers fumbling with the bottle of paint he was holding. Just barely managing not to drop it, Yifan spun around on his heel to see who was standing behind him. Junmyeon couldn’t help but notice how the color immediately drained out of Yifan’s face when their gazes met. Apparently Yifan was just as nervous as he was.

“Hey, I… Um,” Junmyeon began. He found that he couldn’t look Yifan in the eye, lowering his gaze and staring at their shoes. He couldn’t help but notice how small his converses looked next to Yifan’s loafers. “I just…wanted to talk to you. If that’s okay?”

He heard Yifan sigh softly. “Junmyeon, if you have something to say to me, the least you could do is look at me.”

It took Junmyeon a moment to gather the courage, but he finally managed, lifting his head and meeting Yifan’s gaze again. The man’s face was still oddly pale and his eyes were shiny with worry of his own. The atmosphere between the two of them was heavy and awkward and Junmyeon felt like he was choking underneath it. He opened his mouth to speak but it was as if nothing would come out. All Junmyeon could do was stupidly open and close his mouth a few times, but no words left from it.

“I know.” Yifan seemed to pick up on his distress and finally spoke, exhaling as he raised one hand and dragged it through his hair. The classroom was empty and quiet. “I get it, Junmyeon. Look, I… I know what you’re trying to bring up, and I know already that what happened wasn’t appropriate.”

“Yifan, I—“

“Be quiet and let me finish,” Yifan interrupted, though his soft voice did not hold any venom. “Junmyeon, what I did to you was not appropriate, neither in a school environment, nor in my workplace environment. I am aware of the fact that I ignored you today, and I did that because I did not know how to approach this situation between the two of us. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting for you to even want to talk to me after what I did. I do realize that my actions will not be changed but regardless, I do want to offer you an apology for my behavior. I know that I made you uncomfortable, and, again, what I did was not appropriate.”

Junmyeon’s eyebrows furrowed together as he tried again to speak up. “Yifan—“

“I know that an apology isn’t really enough for you but I’m hoping this doesn’t make things weird between the two of us, Junmyeon,” Yifan continued, successfully cutting Junmyeon off yet again. “I’m aware that after this has happened we can’t exactly go back to what we used to be but I do not want things to be so awkward between us that we can’t even look at each other for the remainder of the semester. Things are not going to work if it comes down to that. And I can understand if you want to go to higher-up faculty to complain, but I just wanted t—“

“ _Yifan_ ,” Junmyeon interrupted, his right hand gently grabbing Yifan by the forearm to hold it still, because Yifan was starting to wildly talk with his hands as he rambled. The professor instantly fell silent, his throat bobbing nervously as he stared down at Junmyeon. Junmyeon could not remember a time where Yifan had been this frazzled. He was accustomed to Yifan’s limited conversations; hearing the man talk this much was already enough of a sign as to how nervous the man was. Coupled with how pale he was, Junmyeon could tell how much of a mess Yifan had become on such short notice. “Yifan… Can I _please_ say something?”

Yifan thankfully kept quiet, mutely nodding his head.

“Yifan, listen, I just… I just want to talk about what happened,” Junmyeon murmured, still gripping the professor by the arm. “Could we do that?”

“…Of course,” Yifan at last replied. When Junmyeon at last released his arm, Yifan dropped it slowly. He sighed softly through his nose, yet again dragging his fingers through his hair, mussing up the messy fibers even more. He then cast a gaze over his shoulder at the doorway, as if expecting for someone to walk in at any second. He then glanced over at Junmyeon again. “Let’s…talk in my office.”

Junmyeon didn’t have any objections to that. It would be safer for the both of them, talking in private. After all, discussing the matter at hand in the classroom, where absolutely anyone could walk in at any second, would be suicide.

As usual, Yifan led the way. Junmyeon was practically walking in his shadow, thanks to Yifan’s large height. They walked in silence down the corridor, and Junmyeon kept his eyes glued onto the back of Yifan’s shirt as they approached the man’s office. Yifan paused outside of his office, bag of supplies and canvas clutched in one hand, as he used his free hand to fumble with his keys and unlock the door. Once it was open, Yifan shuffled inside first, flicking on the lights as Junmyeon slinked in behind him. Yifan scooted over enough to let Junmyeon pass him, and then closed the door behind the two of them.

Junmyeon was too anxious to sit down, instead shifting his weight foot to foot as he watched Yifan move about the room, setting down his canvas and storing his art supplies. Junmyeon shed his backpack, dropping it down into the chair beside Yifan’s desk. His canvas had still been wet at the end of lecture, so he had left it on the drying rack in the classroom. He could always go pick it up later if he wished, so that he could do some work outside of class.

“Now,” Yifan started then, practically collapsing into his chair. Only then did Junmyeon take a seat as well, leg jostling already. It felt all weirdly familiar, being in Yifan’s office like this, unable to help but remember what had happened last time he had been in the room. Yifan finally removed his glasses, slipping them off and placing them onto his desk, before turning his attention onto Junmyeon. Junmyeon could still see the nervousness glazed across his irises. “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon said quietly, glancing down at his hands as he clenched them together tightly in his lap. “Yifan, listen, I just… I know things are weird right now but I don’t want for us to completely ignore each other for the entire semester. And I also know that you apologized, but… I probably owe you an apology too. I know running away from the situation wasn’t exactly the most mature way to handle things. I just… I panicked.”

“You had the right to panic and run. I’m lucky you didn’t have a knee-jerk reaction and just slap me in the face,” Yifan commented. “Or march down to administration and instantly report me.”

“Report you? No, no, I… I never thought about telling anyone about what happened,” Junmyeon replied softly. “It was sudden and I just panicked but it’s not worth me snitching on you for it.”

Yifan blinked in surprise, obviously not having been expecting that. “Seriously?”

“Well, yes. I mean, I… I’ve done some thinking, and I…” Junmyeon started, clearly struggling to explain what he was feeling. “I kinda set myself up for it. You know? I didn’t realize it but when I thought about it, I… I guess I’ve been kind of leading you along.”

Large portions of that realization were unwanted dreams and that Yixing had pointed out he had been flirting with Yifan, but he wouldn’t dare tell the professor about those things.

“Junmyeon, if you want me to be honest with you…” Yifan sighed softly, staring at Junmyeon. “I like you. I know that’s no excuse for me to give you unwanted physical contact, but I just lost my patience. I’m not the best at admitting how I feel so I guess I just went off the deep end. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Junmyeon replied, ignoring the look of bewilderment Yifan was officially shooting at him. “Seriously, it’s fine.”

“It isn’t ‘fine’,” Yifan told him, scowling now. “Junmyeon, first of all, it was inappropriate. Second of all, it was unwanted physical contact that could even be labeled as sexual harassment.”

“I’m not mad at you. I wasn’t expecting that at _all_ , but I’m not angry, or disgusted, or… Or whatever else. I didn’t really know what to do when it happened and like I said, I panicked. But it’s _okay_ ,” Junmyeon said, desperation in his voice. “Really, it’s _fine_.”

“No, it _isn’t_ ,” Yifan countered, his own voice tense. “Junmyeon, look—“

“Yifan, _listen_ , I said it’s fine!” Junmyeon countered, voice peaking into a near shriek as his patience began to dry up. “I was flirting with you, you were flirting with me, you kissed me, and it’s _fine._ I get it. You like me. I _get_ it, and I get that you’re upset because you’re worried about all this, but don’t. It’d be pretty hypocritical of me to be upset considering I flirted with you just as much and the fact I like you back.”

The professor paused then, blinking several times, and for once, stunned into total silence. He sank back in his chair, staring at Junmyeon with surprised eyes. “You _what?”_

“I… I, ah…” Junmyeon started, it all dawning on him regarding what he just said. His cheeks began to warm, flushing a soft shade of pink that was rapidly darkening. He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck as he lowered his gaze in embarrassment. His voice was a mumble. “I said that I like you.”

“You… You do?” Yifan’s left eyebrow inched up his forehead, nothing but puzzlement plastered across his face. “I don’t understand.”

“If you want me to be honest… I guess I’m just one of those people where you have to spell it out to me or I don’t get it. And after what happened between the two of us, I did a lot of thinking, and I mean a _lot_ ,” Junmyeon rambled, face flushed as he shyly fidgeted. “I feel like an idiot because it took me this long to figure it out, but I do. I do like you. I just didn’t realize it up until this point.”

Yifan’s ears were red as he scratched the back of his neck, gaze falling for a brief moment. It was obvious he hadn’t seen Junmyeon’s confession coming in the slightest. “You’re sure about this?”

“I’m sure.” Junmyeon nodded just once, practically talking into his lap. “Things don’t need to be strange between the two of us, Yifan. It’s a mutual feeling. It doesn’t need to be weird.”

“But you can’t deny that it _is_ weird,” Yifan argued, leaning forward in his chair. “Look at me, Junmyeon. It _is_ strange and you can argue with me about that all you want, but at the end of the day, it’s odd. The fact that I’m a professor is enough as it is, but the fact that you’re my _student_ makes this even more hard to swallow. It isn’t normal.”

“Neither am I,” Junmyeon said quietly. “I’m kinda weird too, you know. And my ex-boyfriends were both older than me too—“

“Your ex-boyfriends weren’t your _teacher_ that are eleven years your senior,” Yifan interrupted harshly. Junmyeon quieted at that, biting nervously at his lower lip. Yifan was visibly growing frustrated, blowing a puff of air roughly between his lips as he rubbed his forehead. “This isn’t right, Junmyeon.”

“Why isn’t it? You like me, and I like you,” Junmyeon started, unconsciously reaching out to place a hand on Yifan’s arm. “Yifan, you _kissed_ me, and now you’re trying to change your mind?”

“It isn’t that. I like you. I _do_ , but I know this isn’t right and it isn’t fair for you,” Yifan rambled, still cradling his head in his hand. “You may be of legal age, Junmyeon, but you’re still young. You don’t need to be bogged down by me. It isn’t fair for you not to be able to date someone your own age.”

“Why would I be considered ‘bogged down’, Yifan? Just because you’re older than me? If I _like_ you, which I do, it doesn’t matter. Yes?” Junmyeon offered, squeezing Yifan’s arm gently. “Yifan, listen to me. I don’t care about your job compared to mine and I don’t care about your age compared to mine either. If the feeling is mutual…then what do we have to lose?”

“A lot. There’s a damn _lot_ to lose,” Yifan mumbled, arm stiff in Junmyeon’s grip as he continued to cradle his head in his free hand. “My job. My reputation. _Your_ reputation. _Your_ future.”

“And you already risked all of that when you kissed me,” Junmyeon murmured, squeezing Yifan’s arm just a smidge tighter. Yifan visibly swallowed, still hiding his face in his palm. Junmyeon could practically smell the distress radiating off of the professor. “Yifan, be honest with me. You really don’t _want_ to let me go, do you?”

“…No,” Yifan moaned pathetically back, face still buried into his hand. “I don’t. I just… I don’t think…”

“I haven’t seen you this scared before,” Junmyeon then said, unable to help but giggle a little. Yifan peeked out at him between long and tapered fingers, giving him a sour look. “I’m sorry, but it’s funny. Of all the things I ever expected you to be scared of, I didn’t expect me to be a part of it.”

“How do you expect me _not_ to be? God, Junmyeon, I thought you were going to file a sexual harassment complaint against me and that you weren’t going to want to speak to me again and that I’d lose my job,” Yifan rambled, dragging his hand slowly down his face as he exhaled. “I admit it. I _am_ scared. I jumped the gun way too soon and kissed you but that’s a whole lot different from trying to willingly trying to start a relationship with one of my _students.”_

“I won’t be your student forever, you know,” Junmyeon said softly, hand still lingering on Yifan’s arm. “You should know me well enough to know I wouldn’t report you, Yifan. I’m a lot of things, but a snitch isn’t one of them. And you should also know by now that I view you a lot differently than the other kids.”

Yifan didn’t reply to that, and Junmyeon was not at all surprised by the man’s silence.

“Yifan, I’m willing to give this a try, but I need to know that you’re in the same boat as me,” Junmyeon murmured. “You like me, and I like you. All we can do is try. I need to know you want this.”

“I do. I do want to try, Junmyeon, I like you a lot, but I don’t think you realize just what you’re getting into,” Yifan said quietly. “And that’s one reason why I said this isn’t fair to you, because you can’t tell anyone, and I mean _anyone_ , about us. Even with you being legal age, I’m not _supposed_ to date you. The fact that I have a say and influence over your grades is one of the biggest reasons for this. Do you not understand how _wrong_ this could go? The rumors would tear my reputation apart, _and_ yours.”

“I guess that’s just something I’m willing to risk,” Junmyeon murmured. “Yifan, I know you’re scared. I am too, trust me. But we can figure this out together, but you have to let me.”

Yifan was silent for a very long moment before giving Junmyeon a long and serious look. “And you’re absolutely sure that this is what you want?”

“After thinking about it _way_ too much… Yes.” Junmyeon nodded. “I’m sure. I want to at least try.”

“…Okay,” Yifan replied quietly, rubbing the back of his neck with one large hand as he sank back into his chair. “I guess that takes care of it then.”

A long and awkward pause bloomed between the two of them then. Junmyeon was staring down at his lap and Yifan’s eyes were glued onto a vacant spot on the wall. The silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity before Yifan let out a cough.

“So are we…” Yifan started, at last glancing over at Junmyeon. “Are we a couple?”

“I… I think we are,” Junmyeon said then. The student was quiet for a moment before suddenly letting out a small laugh, burying his face into his hands. “This feels so weird. Not bad, but it’s weird. The kiss was weird, the situation is weird, this whole _discussion_ has been weird. And I still barely even _know_ you. I know so _little_ about you and now you’re suddenly my boyfriend and holy crap it’s weird.”

“I know it’s strange,” Yifan agreed. He hesitated for a second before casting a glance at Junmyeon, unable to help but remember Junmyeon making a similar comment after their kiss. “Does it bother you that much that you don’t know me very well?”

“I mean, I can understand not knowing you on a personal level initially because you’re my professor, not my friend. But, um,” Junmyeon rambled, “if we’re going to be a thing, I do want to know more about you. I don’t want to be dating someone I barely know or can’t _get_ to know.”

“Understandable,” Yifan murmured, suddenly reaching across his desk and grabbing a pen out of one of his many cups, and scribbling something down on a scrap piece of paper. “But you have to remember that this is the beginning. We’ll figure things out as we go.”

Yifan extended the slip of paper to him, and Junmyeon glanced down in surprise. He then slowly accepted the offering into his own hands, studying the writing with curious eyes. He felt his heart leap up into his throat as he realized it was a phone number.

“That,” Yifan started, pointing at the slip of paper with the pen he was still holding in his hand, “is my personal number. You know I have classes to teach and work to do, so I’m not very good at contact during my lectures. But I _want_ you to talk to me. Just keep that in mind, and that I’m better at texts than I am at calls.”

Junmyeon’s voice was shaking. “Got it.”

“I know you have another class coming up,” Yifan continued, reaching for his glasses, “so you might want to get moving. Being late for anything never looks good.”

Yifan’s cool and collected aura was back once more, and all Junmyeon could do was nod dumbly as he clutched the sheet of paper in one hand, reaching for his bag with the other, which was sitting on the ground beside the chair. His hands were shaking as he slung his backpack over one shoulder, scurrying for the door. It was Yifan’s voice that stopped him.

“Junmyeon,” Yifan said then, and Junmyeon came to a halt, hand shackled around the knob of the office door. Yifan was staring at him, peering over the rims of his round glasses. To his surprise, there was the _tiniest_ bit of a smile struggling to tug at the right corner of the man’s mouth. “I’m glad we had this talk.”

“Me too.” Junmyeon, despite the way his heart was pounding in his chest and how damp his palms were, couldn’t stop himself from grinning widely at the professor. “See you later.”

Junmyeon exited the office then, closing the door quietly behind him as he stepped out into the hallway. He paused for a moment to study the slip of paper he was clutching, as if unable to believe it. He had Yifan’s cell number. He had a boyfriend now. He was _dating_ someone now, and it was _Yifan_.

It felt as if he was dreaming.

* * *

Even though Yifan had willingly offered over his phone number, he didn’t want to text Yifan immediately. The possibility of coming off as clingy or desperate or annoying was there in the back of Junmyeon’s mind and he wanted to wait until he was a little more calm and collected before attempting to contact the man. He stored Yifan’s number in his phone before quickly throwing the sheet of paper away, just to be safe. He definitely didn’t want Sehun to stumble across it. And from there, all Junmyeon did was wait. When he finally did gather the courage to text Yifan, it was the following evening. The other portion of his dorm room was empty, thanks to Sehun having a dance rehearsal, and Junmyeon planned on taking advantage of the silence as much as possible.

Sitting at his desk and in a sea of books and papers, Junmyeon collected his thoughts and, at last, decided to send off his first text _ever_ to Yifan. And to his surprise, Yifan actually texted pretty quickly. With the man being a professor, and an adult, Junmyeon was expecting him to be a little busier. He should have known better than to assume.

_Yifan (7:18 PM)  
Who is this?_

_Junmyeon (7:19 PM)_  
It’s Junmyeon.  
You gave me your number, remember?

 _Yifan (7:23 PM)_  
Of course I remember.  
I just thought you weren’t ever going to text me.  
I’m surprised.

 _Junmyeon (7:26 PM)_  
I was a little nervous, that was all.  
You know I wouldn’t throw you to the curb like that.  
How is your night going?

 _Yifan (7:29 PM)_  
My painting is pissing me off and my  
back hurts so I’m doing freakin fantastic.  
You?

 _Junmyeon (7:33 PM)_  
Maybe you should take a break and cool  
down and then come back to it?  
It may help you feel better.  
Heat usually works well for soreness, by the way.  
And I’m…okay? I guess. Studying and hating it.

 _Yifan (7:41 PM)_  
Yeah, I don’t miss that.  
And I’m warming up a heating wrap now for my back, so…

_Junmyeon (7:44 PM)  
Does it hurt that bad?_

_Yifan (7:49 PM)_  
It’s to the point where I feel like I’m going  
to throw up, if you want me to be honest.

 _Junmyeon (7:52 PM)_  
Yifan, are you okay? Seriously.  
That doesn’t sound good.

 _Yifan (7:56 PM)_  
It’s fine. It always hurts worse at night.  
Just need my wrap and I’ll be okay.

Junmyeon knew it wasn’t fine. Sure, Yifan wasn’t aware of the fact that Junmyeon knew about the cause of his pain, but he _did_ know. Those images would be imprinted in Junmyeon’s mind forever. He could still picture the snapshots of the car crash and Yifan decorated with various injuries. And that had been _years_ ago. Just how badly had Yifan gotten hurt to make him still experience pain this far after the fact?

But Junmyeon knew he just couldn’t bring that up out of nowhere.

 _Junmyeon (8:02 PM)_  
Please take care of yourself, alright?  
Don’t make me worry about you.  
If it hurts, you need to slow down and take it easy.

 _Yifan (8:05 PM_  
 God, you sound just like Luhan. I know.  
You don’t need to tell me.  
Why do you think I said I’m going to get my wrap and paint?  
It’s not like I’m out running or rock-climbing or something.  
You can probably tell by looking at me I don’t work out.

 _Junmyeon (8:11 PM)_  
If you didn’t eat so many donuts in a day  
you would probably be in a bit better shape.

_Yifan (8:13 PM)  
Cute._

_Junmyeon (8:17 PM)_  
I’m just KIDDING omg don’t be mad!!  
Now tell me about your painting or something!

To his surprise, a photograph was suddenly attached to the next message. Frowning at his phone, Junmyeon tapped on it, successfully enlarging the image. He couldn’t help but suck in a breath of amazement. Ignoring the clutter of paint bottles and brushes and dirty cups of water, Junmyeon was left staring at a large canvas, decorated with striking strokes of paint. A nature scene, complete with a sky tinted purple and pink, coupled with what had to have been a jungle of some sort. The greenery and waterfall looked _incredible_ , as if Junmyeon was staring at a photograph, and not a painting.

 _Junmyeon (8:24 PM)_  
Is that your painting?  
Yifan, that looks so good!

 _Yifan (8:26 PM)_  
Thank you. I always work on paintings during  
lecture when you lot are chipping away at your projects.  
This is one I’ve been tinkering with for a while outside of class.

 _Junmyeon (8:33 PM)_  
It’s beautiful. Seriously. I love it.  
How long have you been working on that?

_Yifan (8:37 PM)  
Four and a half months._

_Junmyeon (8:41 PM)_  
Wow… Yifan, really, that’s impressive.  
I wish I could see it with my own eyes.

Junmyeon was in no way, shape, or form prepared for what came next.

 _Yifan (8:44 PM)_  
You’re more than welcome to come  
over any time you want to get a closer look.

Junmyeon blinked down at his phone several times in stunned silence. His heart was suddenly racing inside of his ribcage. Not only did Yifan just flirt with him, but Yifan had literally just invited him over to his place on top of it. Junmyeon’s mind was suddenly spinning. Where had _that_ come from?

 _Yifan (8:47 PM)_  
On that note, I wanted to ask you something.  
Are you busy Saturday afternoon?

_Junmyeon (8:52 PM)  
Um, no… Not that I know of. Why…?_

_Yifan (8:55 PM)_  
Would you like to go somewhere with me?  
I can come pick you up. I don’t mind.

_Junmyeon (8:59 PM)  
Where are you going?_

_Yifan (9:02 PM)_  
Don’t answer a question with a question.  
Again: would you like to go somewhere with me?

_Junmyeon (9:05 PM)  
I… Sure. Okay. Why not_

_Yifan (9:07 PM)  
Glad to hear it._

_Junmyeon (9:11 PM)_  
Okay, so, my question, yet again is:  
Where do you plan on taking me?

 _Yifan (9:14 PM)_  
It’s a surprise. I’ll see you at noon.  
Same place. Meet me by the library.  
Good night, Junmyeon.

 _Junmyeon (9:16 PM)_  
Oh no, don’t you dare! You can’t DO THAT it’s rude!  
Yifan, I know you’re there! Don’t play me like this!  
Y I F A N!!

Of course, Yifan didn’t bother to respond to any of his text messages. Too wrapped up in the moment, Junmyeon never heard the sound of the door to his room opening, nor did he notice Sehun shuffling into the room with his duffel bag in his hand. Instead, Junmyeon merely let out a loud and frustrated groaning noise as he practically threw his phone across his desk.

“What’s gotten into you?” Sehun asked then, and Junmyeon jolted in his seat so violently he nearly went toppling out of it. Spinning around in his chair, he came face to face with his roommate. Sehun arched an eyebrow as he dropped his bag onto the floor beside his desk. “Who were you talking to that got you this worked up? Your face is all clammy.”

“Uh,” Junmyeon started, unable to hide the anxiety in his voice. Thankfully, he managed to get a grip, stuttering slightly. “A-A guy from one of my classes.”

Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie. Junmyeon was an awful liar, and his face always flushed when he tried to lie. Thankfully, since he was merely hiding a few crucial details of the story, his face didn’t burst into flames.

“Let me guess,” Sehun started, tugging his shirt over his head, “group project?”

“Yes,” Junmyeon replied, lying through his teeth as he swiveled around in his chair so that he wouldn’t have to look at him, just in case his face turned red. “Just a bit of drama.”

“I hear ya,” Sehun murmured in agreement, fumbling around his side of the room as he gathered his supplies for his shower. “Group projects are the worst. You always get stuck with the weirdest or most uncooperative people.”

Junmyeon merely hummed in response, not quite listening anymore. He felt like he could barely even breathe. He had just barely managed to dodge a bullet right then and he had only been talking to Yifan like this for a day. He needed to get it together if he wanted this to last, and last _safely._

But doing that was easier said than done, especially when he remembered the fact he was going to be heading out on a _date_ with the man soon, and that man was one grumpy professor that just so happened to be his new boyfriend.

Junmyeon knew that the university experience was going to be weird, but this definitely had not been _anything_ close to what he had been expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 10 Oct 2016


	14. Installation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ INSTALLATION ]_
> 
> _a form of art which involves the creation of an enveloping aesthetic or sensory experience in a particular environment, often inviting active engagement or immersion by the spectator_

Meeting in such a public setting to go out for a date seemed illogical in Junmyeon’s eyes. After all, Yifan had stressed the point countless times that their relationship needed to stay a secret. He couldn’t fathom why Yifan thought meeting by the library, of all places, was a good idea.

But once Saturday rolled around, it didn’t take Junmyeon long to figure out why Yifan had no issues with their meeting place. Campus was literally deserted. Junmyeon had not passed a single soul on his walk over to the library. The world around him was dimmed from the large dark clouds looming overhead. Rain fell in a torrential downpour, drenching literally everything in sight.

He didn’t bother to put in his earbuds or take out his phone, too worried that they would get soaked. Heavy rain battered down upon his navy blue rain jacket, dripping off the hems and edges of the hood tugged over his head. Junmyeon hadn’t bothered to bring an umbrella, knowing that he wouldn’t have a way to carry it around, since they were going to be taking Yifan’s motorcycle. But he didn’t mind. His jacket was enough to keep him dry.

According to one simplistic text that he had received from Yifan only a few minutes before he had left his dorm, Yifan was going to meet him around the back side of the library this time. So when the building came into sight, Junmyeon continued to walk down the sidewalk beside it so that he could circle around behind the building.

Sure enough, as he grew closer, he could see a lone figure standing beneath the overhang, right behind the door designated for emergency exits only. Yifan glanced over at him as Junmyeon approached, offering him the tiniest wave with his left hand, as his right was busy cradling his motorcycle helmet to his chest. Junmyeon could see the rainwater dripping off of his leather jacket.

“You aren’t supposed to let leather get wet,” Junmyeon commented as he strode up to Yifan, tugging down his hood as he found safety beneath the overhang as well. He offered the man a small smile.

Yifan just let out a small snort in response. “I treated it after I bought it, so it’s waterproof. It’s fine.”

“But still, I don’t think riding your motorcycle in this kind of weather is the best idea,” Junmyeon replied, eyebrows pinching together. “I’m surprised you offered for us to go anywhere with this weather.”

To his surprise, he could just barely see the tips of Yifan’s ears flushing pink. Yifan turned his head away from him, breaking eye contact. “I knew it was going to rain, but I didn’t think it would rain _this_ much. We can wait it out. I checked the radar before you walked over here, and it looks like it’s just passing through. It’ll lighten up in a bit.”

They immediately fell into silence after that. Neither one of them looked at each other, just listening to the sound of the pouring rain as they stared off into the distance. It was awkward, and they both felt it. They weren’t nearly comfortable enough around each other yet, and they could _both_ pick up on that.

“So, uh…” Junmyeon let out a rather awkward cough. “What’s new?”

“Not much has changed since I talked to you last night. But if you want an update: my back kind of hurts, I’m tired, and I’ve been binging on a reality TV show for background noise while I paint,” Yifan murmured, one hand tucked into his pocket. The other still cradled his helmet close to his chest. His eyes drifted over to Junmyeon then. “You?”

“Drowning in schoolwork like usual,” Junmyeon replied with a sigh, staring down at his converses. “I have my painting to finish up for your class, homework, essays, exams…”

“It’s tough, but it’s not impossible,” Yifan told him softly. “And believe it or not, obtaining high grades isn’t that far out of your reach either.”

Junmyeon’s shoulders slumped slightly. “I do want good grades. It’s hard though. I was a really good student in high school and I’m having a really difficult time here. It’s just so much work to do and not enough time to do it.”

“Well, if you want some inspiration,” Yifan began, “you can always keep me in mind. I wasn’t that great of a student in high school. I was average, at best. But I did better when I was your age.”

“Really?” Junmyeon asked, blinking in surprise as he stared up at Yifan. The atmosphere between them was much lighter now as the two conversed about their lives. Rain audibly dripped off the edge of the overhang. “So you had a high GPA?”

“Well… For the most part, yes,” Yifan replied calmly. “When I switched my major, my grades dropped, but I still graduated with pretty high marks.”

Junmyeon already knew what Yifan’s major was before he had switched it over to art, but he didn’t want to let Yifan become aware of that fact. He didn’t want to admit he had dug around the internet for his history. Plus, if he kept this conversation going, maybe he could finally crack a few more locks covering the doors of Yifan’s past. So Junmyeon merely cleared his throat and asked in the most casual voice he could, “you switched majors?”

“Yes. I was a business major my freshman and sophomore year. I had a perfect 4.0 GPA back then. I was one of the best in the department,” Yifan said, staring off into the distance. He hesitated for a moment before he sighed softly through his nose. “But I didn’t like it. I was good at what I did, but I didn’t feel challenged enough, nor did I enjoy it as a whole. Everyone told me I was crazy when I said I wanted to change majors. You know, said I already had it good as a business major and everything. But art has always been one of my favorite things. It was something I always dreamed of doing _more_ when I grew up. So I bit the bullet and changed my major to studio art.”

Junmyeon paused for a moment before speaking softly. “Did you like being an art major?”

“I’ve always loved art, so yes, majoring in it was the best choice for me. There were tons of complications at the time, both with my projects and my professors, and like I said, my grades went down because of those classes, but I didn’t want to quit,” Yifan murmured. He shrugged. “It was a challenge, definitely, but you have to suffer for what you love sometimes. Hopefully when you decide on your major, you will feel the same way.”

Junmyeon scuffed his shoe against the ground. “I still have no idea of what I even _want_ to do…”

“You still have time to figure it out. You’re a freshman,” Yifan told him, tired eyes blinking once as he continued to stare out at the dimly lit world. The rain was still coming down, but not nearly as heavy as it had been a few minutes ago. “Let me tell you something, Junmyeon. Whatever you choose to do, make sure you come to a decision that _you’re_ okay with, and don’t pick something just because everyone else is trying to force you into it. It’s your life. Do what you want. Got it?”

“Got it,” Junmyeon replied, unable to help but think Yifan was speaking from experience. The professor’s voice was so bitter suddenly; Junmyeon could tell he had emotions tied to his words, hiding below the surface. But he didn’t push, merely letting the topic go as he nodded his head once. “I got it.”

The two continued to converse for a few minutes, watching as the rain slowly became lighter and lighter until there wasn’t much left other than a soft drizzle. It was only then that Yifan stepped out from under the overhang, motioning for Junmyeon to follow. The air was damp and chilly from the autumn rain. Junmyeon shivered absently inside of his raincoat as he trotted along beside Yifan.

“ _Now_ can you tell me where you’re taking me?” Junmyeon asked, coming to a halt beside Yifan. The professor was busying himself by removing the plastic cover he had draped over his motorcycle to protect it from the rain, still cradling his helmet under one arm as he did so.

“Nope,” Yifan replied coolly, placing his helmet atop of the seat so that he could flap the plastic cover a few times, trying to shake off as much water as he could. He then began to fold it up into the smallest rectangle he could, before reaching over and unbuckling one of the saddlebags suspended from the side of his motorcycle. “It’s a surprise.”

Junmyeon scowled. “That isn’t fair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Yifan replied in a heartbeat, extending his arm to hand over the helmet to Junmyeon. “Now be quiet and put this on.”

Biting down on his lower lip, Junmyeon accepted the motorcycle into his small hands. He stared down at it with obvious hesitance before glancing back up at Yifan. “But what about you?”

Yifan just sighed. “Junmyeon, we went over this last time. Don’t worry about me. Keeping you safe is far more important.”

“Yeah, but I don’t…” Junmyeon started, before he trailed off, staring back down at the helmet he was clutching tightly in small hands. He couldn’t help but think back to those images he had seen plastered across webpages, snapshots of a totaled motorcycle and too many injuries. There was a whisper of _I don’t want anything bad to happen to you again_ in the back of his brain, but Junmyeon did not dare speak those words.  He glanced up at Yifan once more. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” Yifan said coolly, obviously not at all concerned. Brushing off Junmyeon’s worries, Yifan nodded down to the helmet. “Can you put that on yourself this time, or do you need help?”

Junmyeon blushed slightly. “Ah… I think I can do it, lemme try…”

Muscle memory kicking into gear, Junmyeon copied Yifan’s actions that he had witnessed last time they had gone riding together. Clutching the straps of the helmet to ensure they wouldn’t fall back inside, Junmyeon carefully lifted the helmet and began to pull it over his head. The fit was still just as uncomfortable and tight as last time, padding scratching against his skin as Junmyeon adjusted the helmet the best he could. At long last, he managed to put it on, and found himself staring at Yifan through the visor.

Yifan reached out then, and Junmyeon couldn’t stop himself from jumping slightly as he felt long and tapered fingers brushing up against his neck. Yifan had his lips pursed in concentration. “Here, let me do the straps. The rings are a pain in the ass and they’re really difficult to properly do.”

So Junmyeon just stood there, certain that he could hear his pulse echoing inside of the motorcycle helmet. Perhaps what was even worse was the tingling warmth that spread over his skin every time Yifan touched him by mistake, setting off a chain reaction right beneath his flesh. It reminded him too much of his dream, and that only made Junmyeon even _more_ embarrassed.

At last, Yifan finished, taking a step back. He reached out with one hand, and, once again, placed it atop of the helmet to try to wiggle it. Seeming satisfied, Yifan turned his attention to his motorcycle. Junmyeon watched him as Yifan easily swung one long leg over it, straddling it with no problem. Junmyeon knew it was now officially his turn, and even though he had ridden on the motorcycle once before, he was still a bit nervous.

Just like last time, Junmyeon had issues getting on the bike. He didn’t lift his leg high enough the first time, though he thankfully succeeded on the second attempt. Unaccustomed to the balancing act, however, Junmyeon nearly went tumbling right over the edge of his seat. Thankfully, he managed to keep himself upright, already starting to look for the pegs so that he could prop up his feet. One side was rather difficult since the saddlebag was in the way, but Junmyeon, by some miracle, managed.

He still felt just as nervous as he did the first time. The motorcycle roared to life underneath him as Yifan started the engine, and soon enough, they were moving. It was the same slow and steady pace Yifan had taken on the first trip as well, merely letting off the brakes a bit and not giving the bike any extra gas, and letting it coast forward. As they sat at the same traffic light as before, right outside of the faculty parking lot, Junmyeon swallowed nervously as he stared at Yifan’s broad back, hidden beneath his leather jacket. His stomach ached with newfound nerves, but Junmyeon didn’t have the courage to reach out and hold onto Yifan for support.

But once the light turned green, and Yifan made his first turn, the panic was enough to get Junmyeon to move. Managing not to scream like he had done last time, Junmyeon flung himself forward on his seat, instantly crushing himself against Yifan’s large frame. His arms shackled in a death grip around Yifan’s middle, little fingers clutching handfuls of his shirt as he pressed the front of the helmet deep into Yifan’s jacket.

The redness that ran down the back of Yifan’s neck went just as unnoticed as it did the first time.

* * *

Yifan’s palms were sweating as he borderline choked on his own saliva. Yifan was sure his heart was on the verge of bursting out of his ribcage because it was beating so fast. Although Yifan had not been nervous at first, after standing in the lobby with Junmyeon with two ticket stubs in his hand for a few minutes while Junmyeon buried his face into the map, Yifan could feel the anxiety slowly swelling up inside of him with every ticking minute. He could _not_ afford to mess this up.

Junmyeon at last glanced up from his little paper map, staring at Yifan with eyes spread wide. “This place is huge.”

Yifan found that he couldn’t hold still, restless fingers tearing at the edges of the ticket stubs he was clutching tightly. “Yeah. We can go look at whatever you want to first; I’m not picky.”

“We can just follow the map and go in order to make sure we don’t miss any exhibits,” Junmyeon said, humming as he glanced back down at the map for a moment. He was laughing softly as he began to fold the paper up into a small rectangle so that he could slide it into his pocket. “I’m kinda surprised though. After you were being so secretive about this, I wasn’t expecting you to take me to an aquarium, of all places.”

“I know it’s not the most romantic thing in the world,” Yifan mumbled, ripping into one of the tickets as he stared down at his hands, “but I know you told me that you’re from a really small town. I doubted that you’ve been to one this size before, if you’ve been to one at all.”

“Guilty as charged. I’ve never been to an aquarium before in my life,” Junmyeon said with a giggle, and Yifan was certain he could feel his heart starting to melt. When he glanced over at Junmyeon, the boy’s face was warm, eyes scrunched up into amused and happy little crescents. Standing there stupidly, just staring at Junmyeon, it wasn’t until the student gently tugged on the sleeve of his jacket that he snapped out of whatever trance he had just fallen into. Junmyeon blinked up at him through dark eyelashes, lips curled up in an amused smile. “Come on. Let’s get going.”

Yifan just nodded. He at last gave the ticket stubs mercy, tossing them in a trashcan as they wandered across the lobby. Junmyeon was practically bouncing beside him as they walked, his head turning constantly as if he was afraid he was going to miss something already. Yifan couldn’t help but notice how his wine-colored mop of hair seemed to bounce with him every time he moved.

He let out a shaky, albeit unheard, exhale. This was supposed to be an easy date. They could look around and talk, and if they ran out of things to talk about, there was always the assortment of sea life they were going to be witnessing soon that was up for discussion. He could do this. No problem.

Unsurprisingly, it was Junmyeon who showed the most energy between the two of them. The previously awkward atmosphere that had surrounded them, both earlier in the day, and in the days prior, had vanished. Under the dim lights of the rooms housing aquatic habitats, Junmyeon was like a miniature ball of sunlight, his face lit up both happiness and amusement. Their personal lives had dissolved from discussion entirely, as Junmyeon was babbling about the sea animals _nonstop_. It was horribly cute in Yifan’s eyes, seeing Junmyeon gluing himself to the glass like a child and talking a mile a minute. His energy was contagious, and even as Yifan stood quietly at Junmyeon’s side, he found himself wanting to smile too, for no particular reason.

Maybe this had been a better idea than he had initially thought it would be.

Yifan was internally grateful that the aquarium wasn’t packed, despite it being a Saturday. It gave Junmyeon better opportunities to see what was hiding behind the glass walls, and it presented the two of them with more alone time. Junmyeon had spent what felt like an eternity at the penguin exhibit, taking dozens of photographs of the black and white birds with his phone, a gleeful smile on his face the entire time. And when they finally began to veer away from the area, Yifan thought they were free at last from the fishy smell, but apparently not. There were a few penguin-shaped statues lining the hall, only a few meters away, and Junmyeon was practically jumping up and down as he _begged_ Yifan for them to take a picture together in front of one of the sculptures.

Yifan couldn’t say no to Junmyeon, and it was how he found himself standing beside Junmyeon in a sea of penguin statues, his knees bent so that he could match Junmyeon’s height.

Junmyeon had the heart of a little kid, and it was downright cute. Yifan’s chest felt warm as he watched Junmyeon bounce all over the place, taking photographs of literally _everything_ and touching all that he could. The two of them huddled around one of the touch pools that had attracted mostly children, and Junmyeon was all giggles and smiles as he let his small hands brush over the backs of horseshoe crabs and sea stars.

They were walking through one of the tunnels now, and it was hushed. Even Junmyeon had quieted down, his head tipped backwards and soft lips parted in a round shape of amazement as he observed the sharks drifting over their heads. Yifan’s palm itched to move. Junmyeon’s own hand was _right there_ , meager inches out of reach as the two of them walked through the dimly lit room, and Yifan wanted to hold it. But despite his desires, Yifan couldn’t force himself to do such a thing. He had reached for the boy’s hand and had _nearly_ curled his own fingers around Junmyeon’s own before he chickened out at the last second, instead merely letting his hand drop to his side.

Perhaps it was too early for him to try to hold Junmyeon’s hand.

“Yifan,” Junmyeon called then. Yifan stole a glance over his shoulder, having been watching one of the eels behind the thick acrylic glass. Junmyeon was lingering a bit farther back, reading over some of the information blocks about the animals inside the tunnel. “Come here, I think I found you in shark form.”

Not knowing what he was getting himself into, Yifan walked over to where Junmyeon was standing, and peeped over his shoulder. He was greeted by a picture of a shark he didn’t immediately recognize, but it definitely wasn’t the prettiest thing in the world. Before he had a chance to ask for an explanation, Junmyeon spoke up, reading the text for him, since Yifan definitely couldn’t see it clearly without his glasses on.

“Nurse sharks are nocturnal and are often hidden beneath ledges or crevices. They prefer specific areas and will return to them repetitively to hunt. These sharks are solitary animals,” Junmyeon read, before he let out a loud and amused laugh. “It sounds just like you! Up all night, sleeping away during the day, hiding out in your office all the time, and going to your café constantly to fill up on coffee and baked goods.”

Yifan’s cheeks reddened under the shabby lighting. “Come on, that isn’t fair.”

“It’s totally fair,” Junmyeon replied with a giggle. “I can’t help it if you act like a shark that makes noises when it feeds that sounds like a baby sucking on a bottle.”

“Oh, what, so now I make noises like a baby too?” Yifan groaned out, giving Junmyeon a soft and playful push. “Now you’re just making things up.”

“I dunno, I mean, it’s possible you make those noises when you sleep?” Junmyeon offered, breaking down into even more laughter at the look of disbelief Yifan was giving him. “I’m just joking! Don’t be like that. If anything, you’re more of a pufferfish.”

“Why is that?” Yifan asked, corner of his mouth twitching in amusement at Junmyeon’s behavior. Junmyeon began to at last drift away from the information about the animals and was walking down the tunnel once more, Yifan at his side. “Something to do with its spikes or whatever they are that it has?”

“Exactly. I mean, you kinda look like one in general. You’re intimidating but your cheeks are kinda chubby,” Junmyeon said, and before Yifan could object that _no_ , he didn’t have chubby cheeks, Junmyeon kept talking. “But yeah, mostly the spines! You’re all calm and everything and then you suddenly get really mad and just kinda explode? Like a pufferfish goes into defense mode and gets all puffy? But instead of spines, people get yelling out of you.”

Yifan chuckled under his breath. “I don’t get puffy when I’m mad. I get puffy and bloated when I eat too much fast food.”

Junmyeon let out a loud snort before erupting in a new waves of laughs. And deep down, Yifan wondered if he could possibly listen to them forever. He was slowly falling in love with the noise of the boy’s laughter and every other little piece of him and he didn’t mind it.

“You’re so funny,” Junmyeon praised, huddling close to Yifan’s side. He felt his knuckles graze the back of Junmyeon’s hand. “I’m surprised to hear you talk like that. You’ve been so cut and dry since the day I met you.”

“I’m like that around everyone unless I know you well. I’m sure Luhan could give you some gossip about my behavior,” Yifan said. “He loves to call me a drama queen.”

“You? I’ll believe that when I see it,” Junmyeon replied with a playful roll of his eyes.

“You have to remember that I’ve known Luhan for over thirteen years,” Yifan continued as he and Junmyeon paused for a moment to watch one of the passing sea turtles. “He kinda knows me better than anyone else. So, if he wants to call me a whiner, I guess he has to be coming from somewhere.”

“Whine about what?” Junmyeon asked, voice laced with nothing but innocence. He turned his head to one side and gave the other the cheekiest grin he could muster. “Your favorite donut being sold out at the store?”

“Man, you’re sassy today,” Yifan grumbled, ignoring the way Junmyeon playfully stuck his tongue out at him. “What’s gotten into you today?”

“Nothing. It’s just a really good day, and I’m really happy,” Junmyeon chirped in response. “I’m having a _really_ good time. I’m glad you brought me here.”

Yifan paused for a long moment, feeling the slickness forming on his palms again as the skin of Junmyeon’s hand brushed against his once more. Junmyeon was so close to him and Yifan could reach out at any second and wrap his fingers about Junmyeon’s own, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

“I’m glad,” Yifan murmured, his voice as soft and calm as it typically was. “I was worried you weren’t going to enjoy yourself, especially considering the atmosphere here isn’t romantic at all.”

“Are you kidding? I’m having a blast. I haven’t had this much fun in ages,” Junmyeon told him, grinning big and wide and the gleam of those perfect teeth seemed so bright in the dimly lit shark tunnel. “And I don’t think it matters that this isn’t super romantic. You’re here and I get to talk to you, and that’s what matters. Besides, we don’t need something over the top romantic for our second date.”

Yifan halted in his tracks, blinking in confusion as he stared down at Junmyeon under furrowed eyebrows. “Second date? This is our first date, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon blinked up at him innocently. “The lunch and art museum thing doesn’t count then?”

“No! We weren’t together then,” Yifan practically spluttered. “That wasn’t a date! _This_ is our first date.”

“Oh,” Junmyeon echoed blankly, seeming both surprised and puzzled all at once. He and Yifan began to walk again in slow, measured paces, side by side, fingers and palms grazing as they moved. “Well… Okay. Then this is a very nice first date.”

And all of a sudden, Junmyeon hand bumped into his. As Yifan turned to look at him, he felt Junmyeon’s fingers threading through his own, slowly and shyly, his palm so tiny and warm against Yifan’s larger one. Warmth burst through his veins and shot up his limbs and Yifan knew he could have died happy right then and there.

But instead, his cheeks merely flushed a little as the tiniest bit of a smile formed on his lips as he looked away, squeezing Junmyeon’s hand tightly in his own.

* * *

_“Ugh_ ,” Junmyeon groaned loudly, practically collapsing back into his chair. Yifan paused in chewing to raise his eyebrows in silent questioning, staring at Junmyeon from across their tiny table tucked away in the corner. “I don’t think I’ve eaten this much in my entire life.”

“I told you to pace yourself,” Yifan said calmly, reaching across the table and plucking up another piece of sushi off the tray the two were sharing. Junmyeon couldn’t help but blanch in response, sitting up for one brief moment to practically shove the plate across the table at Yifan, signaling for him to eat the rest. There was no way Junmyeon was going to be able to finish it off. “But you’re the one who kept saying ‘no, I’m starving, if I don’t eat right now I’m going to die’.”

“I felt like I was going to. You have to remember that I haven’t eaten anything all day and it’s dinnertime,” Junmyeon complained, slouched down in his chair.

After the two had finished up their date at the aquarium, Yifan had offered to take him out to dinner. Junmyeon had tried to decline to be polite, but his stomach, as usual, betrayed him, growling eagerly at the offering of food. Junmyeon had wound up offering sushi as a food option, mainly as a joke after seeing all the fish at the aquarium, but after a moment of pondering it, Yifan agreed to the idea.

Junmyeon wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to walk back to his dorm. Or back down the block to Yifan’s motorcycle, even. Maybe if he begged enough, Yifan would carry him. He felt too heavy to move otherwise.

“Do they have a lot of restaurants where you’re from?” Yifan asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. “I know you said you’re from a small town, so I’m just curious.”

“We had one. Just one. It was some diner-style place that’s been family owned for several generations,” Junmyeon replied. “But I really like to try new foods, and so did my mom, so we would usually drive out together to some of the surrounding towns that were larger to find new places to eat. There was one place we found that had sushi on their menu, but it was pretty far from my hometown, so we didn’t go there very much.”

Yifan hummed in response. “I guess I’m spoiled then. My hometown was pretty big so we had a lot of dining options.”

“And lots of bakeries for your donut cravings?” Junmyeon teased.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” Yifan asked as he let out an amused snort, taking a sip of his drink. “Should I start teasing you on your lack of portion control?”

“No thank you,” Junmyeon whined, kicking Yifan softly and playfully in the shin beneath the table. “My stomachache is sign enough that I’ve learned my lesson.”

To his surprise, Yifan actually _laughed_. It was the softest sound he had ever heard in his life, but Junmyeon heard it, and he instantly shot up in his seat, despite his stomachache. “Did you just— _laugh?_ ”

Yifan paused halfway through biting into his next mouthful of food to give him a look that vaguely reminded Junmyeon of a deer caught in car headlights, merely blinking at him.

“You _did_ ,” Junmyeon spluttered in disbelief, splaying his palms across the table so suddenly that he nearly knocked over his drink. His face was lit up in amazement as he stared at Yifan from across the table. “First I got to see you smile, and now I got to hear you laugh? What’s gotten into you?”

Yifan was silent in response to that.

_They were standing before one of the enormous tanks that housed tropical creatures. Yifan could see both hard and soft coral through the crystal clear waters. The fish were small and colorful, their tiny fins fluttering as they swam, little bodies stained rainbows of oranges and yellows and pinks and purples and blues._

_“They’re so cute,” Junmyeon cooed, having released his grip on Yifan’s hand so that he could resume his photography session. He couldn’t keep up with the fish though, and he was wandering back and forth in front of the glass as he tried to take a snapshot of the clownfish he had set his eyes on. “These are my favorite thing we’ve seen all day.”_

_Yifan hummed beside him, pointing absently to a black and white fish with yellow markings. “I like this one.”_

_“Which one is that?” Junmyeon asked, finally looking up from his phone as he managed to snap a photo. He joined Yifan’s side as the man was busy examining the wall of identification charts, trying to figure out what fish he had just seen. Junmyeon spotted it then, and couldn’t help but let out a snort of laughter. “’Yellowbanded sweetlips’?”_

_“One hell of a name for a fish,” Yifan agreed, pointing to another photograph. “Looks like his buddy here is named ‘spotted sweetlips’.”_

_“What made a scientist come up with ‘sweetlips’ though?” Junmyeon asked rhetorically, chuckling to himself as he tucked his phone away into the pocket of his jacket. “Of all the names in the world…”_

_“No kidding,” Yifan murmured, staring into the tank and watching the small fish swim around. He checked his watch and let out a soft whistle. “It doesn’t feel like we’ve been here this long. The aquarium is going to close soon.”_

_“Ah, we’d better hurry then,” Junmyeon said, finally turning away from the tank. “I still wanna look around in the gift shop before we go.”_

_“You? A broke university student?” Yifan teased, seeming amused by Junmyeon’s whines. “Relax, I’m just kidding. What were you looking for?”_

_“Keychain!” Junmyeon said eagerly, eyes lighting up almost immediately. “I collect them.”_

_Yifan couldn’t help but think back to the massive sum of keychains dangling from Junmyeon’s backpack, jingling wildly whenever he walked. Ah, now it made sense._

_“I’m sure they’ll have some,” Yifan reassured him. “I’ve never set foot in a gift shop that doesn’t sell keychains.”_

_“I hope so,” Junmyeon murmured, casting one last lingering glance at the massive tank of tropical fish. He sighed softly and his shoulders slumped. “I don’t wanna go, to be honest. I really like it here.”_

_“I’ll bring you back sometime,” Yifan told him, edging closer to the younger male. Gathering up his courage, Yifan let one hand drift outwards, gently circling it around one of Junmyeon’s forearms. “If you want to come back, just tell me. I don’t mind bringing you. I know it’s a long haul from campus.”_

_“Really?” Junmyeon asked, a hopeful smile passing those pretty pink lips, and with that, Yifan felt the last thread of control inside of him snap._

_“I promise,” Yifan whispered, watching Junmyeon’s eyes widen slightly as Yifan bridged the gap between the two of them. “You just have to tell me.”_

_Yifan kissed him._

_There in a dimly lit room inside of an aquarium, surrounded by silence and fish tanks, Yifan craned his head down just enough so that he could press a kiss onto Junmyeon’s lips. Before he could stop himself, his hands rose upwards, coming to cup Junmyeon’s jaw lovingly in his palms. His own eyes were closed, so he missed the way Junmyeon’s eyelashes fluttered before slipping shut, Junmyeon’s legs trembling as he unconsciously heaved himself up onto his tiptoes._

_And when Yifan broke the kiss, the most pleasant sigh he had ever heard before in his life passed Junmyeon’s lips._

_Instantly, the tiniest smile crossed Yifan’s own._

Yifan stared down at his food in silence, before he weakly shrugged his shoulders. Junmyeon could see his ears flushing red as he poked at the piece of sushi on his plate.

“It’s nothing,” Yifan said softly, cheekbones tinged pink as he practically talked into his meal, not daring to meet Junmyeon’s gaze. It was as if a sudden shyness had overwhelmed him. And Junmyeon was so accustomed to seeing Yifan so stoic and unemotional that he couldn’t help but find it cute. “I’m just happy. That’s all.”

A smile, big and wide, slowly crept onto Junmyeon’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 17 Oct 2016


	15. Diptych

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ DIPTYCH ]_
> 
> _a work of art made up of two parts, usually hinged together_

Although it was somewhat difficult for Yifan to process, it was a fact that he and Junmyeon had officially been dating for two weeks.

_Yifan (8:17 AM)  
Aren’t you supposed to be in class?_

_Junmyeon (8:19 AM)_  
I told you before that my class with Luhan isn’t until 11!  
Were you even paying attention when I told you?

 _Yifan (8:22 AM)_  
Hm… Probably not. I’m sure I was more than likely  
distracted by your beautiful face instead ;-)

_Junmyeon (8:24 AM)  
Don’t say things like that!!_

_Yifan (8:27 AM)_  
Why not? Ah… I bet you’re turning the cutest shade of  
red right now, aren’t you~?

_Junmyeon (8:28 AM)  
No!! Why would I!! ;;_

_Yifan (8:30 AM)_  
I know you get all flustered when someone compliments you,  
so nice try. But it’s true. You’re so cute when you turn red.  
It matches that pretty smile of yours.  
Makes you even more stunning.

_Junmyeon (8:32 AM)  
Stooop you’re embarrassing meee (/.  \\)_

“What are you doing on your phone that’s taking this long?” A sudden voice asked, and Yifan was so startled that he dropped his phone. It tumbled from his fingers and hit the table with a loud _thud._ Before Yifan could reach out to grab it, another hand beat him to it, snatching up the electronic despite Yifan’s panicked cry. “You’re never on your phone for this long.”

“Luhan, give it back!” Yifan shrieked, long arms instantly shooting across the table as he tried to wrangle his phone from his friend’s hand. Unfortunately, Luhan was out of his reach. “Luhan, give me my phone!”

“No way! You hardly ever use your phone, and all of a sudden you’re glued to the damn thing! And ignoring me no less, when you’re supposed to be hanging out with _me_ for once,” Luhan huffed, leaning back in his chair, holding Yifan’s phone in one hand. “Something has been keeping your attention all morning and I wanna know what it is.”

The color drained from Yifan’s face as Luhan lowered his gaze and began to skim over his text messages. For a moment, all Yifan could do was sit there, frozen in terror as he remained perched on his chair in the back of the café. He watched as Luhan’s expression morphed from interested to infuriated as meager seconds, and as his friend glanced up from the phone screen, Yifan knew he was about to be grilled to the _bone._

“Kris,” Luhan started, at last surrendering the phone as he glowered at Yifan underneath two dark eyebrows, “what the _hell_ are you up to?”

 _“Nothing_ ,” Yifan snapped, snatching his phone out of Luhan’s hand, now that it was within his reach. His pale cheeks were starting to flush pink. “It isn’t any of your business.”

“I already told you that you need to let him go,” Luhan argued, tenseness hardening his normally light voice. Yifan refused to meet his gaze, large fingers toying with the edge of his simplistic phone case. “What was the point of you even talking to me about it if you weren’t even going to listen to a word I said?”

“You had a point and I understood that perfectly,” Yifan said quietly, staring down at the table, decorated with his nearly empty cup of coffee and bag of half-eaten cinnamon bread, “and the two of us discussed it already.”

“And you’re sure that you know what you’re doing?” Luhan asked him, brow pinching in an unamused scowl. “This isn’t a game, Kris. Do you have any idea of how risky this is? You make one wrong move and you’re done for.”

“It’s worth the risk. Okay? It’s worth it,” Yifan mumbled, his voice hardly audible. “I’ll be careful. But this is what I want to do, and you’re not going to talk me out of it. I like him. I like him a _lot_ , and I know we haven’t been together very long, but he’s worth it to me.”

Luhan was silent for a long moment, before his shoulders sagged as he released a heavy sigh. “I knew you were up to something. Something must have gotten into your head for you to actually agree to meeting me for coffee before class.”

Yifan shuffled his shoes uncertainly against the floor. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that you normally wouldn’t give me the time of day. You and I haven’t hung out even once in the past few months,” Luhan explained slowly, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. “You’re acting differently now that you’re dating him. And you’ve only been dating for, what, a couple weeks?”

Yifan, complete with reddened ears, lowered his gaze. “I see.”

“I didn’t say that change is a bad thing,” Luhan then commented, pursing his lips together as he leaned forward in his seat. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. It’s actually a good thing that you’re staritng to change, even if it took someone else to help steer you in the right direction.”

“I haven’t changed,” Yifan mumbled, his voice hardly audible, as if he was instead speaking to the half-empty cup of coffee sitting on the table before him.

“You have, though. Perhaps not _drastically_ , but you have,” Luhan argued. “Like I said, you stopped hanging out with me ages ago. So something in you changed if you actually wanted to socialize with me. And whether or not you believe me when I say this, you kept smiling at your phone nonstop. One, you hardly ever use your phone, and two, I haven’t seen you smile in an eternity. And seeing that I’ve known you for well over a decade, I’m plenty aware of the fact that you normally can’t flirt your way out of a wet paper bag, but you’re flirting with him nonstop—“

 _“Okay_ ,” Yifan gritted out from between clenched teeth, ears smudged red, cheekbones darkening into a flattering shade of pink. “I _get_ it.”

“It’s the truth though. And man, I really want to go back into tearing into you and tell you how stupid you are doing the complete opposite of what I told you to do,” Luhan said with a sigh, “but all I can say is that you need to be careful. _Really_ careful. But otherwise… I don’t have much to say. He makes you happier. I can see that plain as day. So if you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

Yifan was silent for a long moment, obviously not having been expecting those words at all. But at last he nodded, his face softening slightly. “Thanks.”

His phone vibrated, and Yifan stole a glance downward to see a text from Junmyeon lighting up his screen – _I hope we can hang out again soon, last time was fun –_ complete with three little hearts.

“Isn’t there a term for people like you?” Luhan then inquired, eyebrows arching as he sipped his own coffee. “Ya know, like a cougar. But an old guy liking younger men, instead of an old woman liking a younger man.”

Yifan’s face burned all over again. “Shut it.”

Luhan merely laughed in response, and Yifan already knew that his friend was going to tease him about this forever.

* * *

His roommate was acting stranger than usual.

Sehun was plenty aware of the fact that Junmyeon was a social butterfly, practically to extraordinarily levels, but this was getting ridiculous. If Junmyeon wasn’t busying himself by burying his face into his textbooks or chipping away at other assignments, then it was as if Junmyeon was always glued to his phone. Sure, Junmyeon had lots of friends, but it wasn’t like him to constantly stayed anchored to his phone like that nonstop.

But even when Sehun asked for more details to try to figure out what in the world had gotten into Junmyeon, there was never quite enough information present to crack the case.

“Hey,” Sehun started, shrugging his backpack onto his shoulders. It was a Wednesday, and he had dance practice tonight. Junmyeon was perched on his bed, and glanced over at him in questioning. With the chill of autumn setting in, it left Junmyeon bundled up in one of his blankets, surrounded by his laptop and a sea of textbooks, along with a half-eaten family sized bag of potato chips. “Are you free this weekend? The guys and I have been trying to figure out something to do, so I can let Yixing and Jongin know tonight if you’re interested?”

“Sorry, but I can’t,” Junmyeon told him, eyebrows upturning as he crammed another potato chip into his mouth. “I’m busy.”

“Busy with what?” Sehun asked, arching an eyebrow of his own.

“Um, well… Mostly schoolwork,” Junmyeon replied meekly, lowering his gaze so that he could stare at his laptop screen. Sehun instantly noticed how his cheeks were flushed, like they always did when Junmyeon lied, or was attempting to withhold crucial details. There was definitely something that Junmyeon wasn’t telling him. “I have two exams on Monday, and a lot of other things I need to get done.”

Sehun paused for a long moment before he at last merely sighed, swiping his keys off his desk. “Well, I hope that goes okay for you. I’ll let the others know you’re busy.”

There was definitely something going on, but Sehun just didn’t have enough information to crack the code yet.

* * *

The fear of riding was slowly beginning to become a thing of the past. Then again, after spending an hour on a motorcycle, there would be quite a bit of an issue if Junmyeon was still scared senseless. He wasn’t exactly _comfortable_ riding upon it, but he wasn’t downright terrified like he had been the first couple times.

He couldn’t help but notice how warm Yifan felt against him. The air was icy as it whipped past them, and even inside his jacket, Junmyeon’s skin felt too chilled for comfort. He now knew better than to wear a lightweight jacket the next time he was out with Yifan, especially since autumn was settled in officially. But for now, all he could do was suck it up and deal with it.

But hugging Yifan close was definitely helpful. The thick leather of the man’s jacket was warm and comfortable against him. He had his face resting against Yifan’s back the best he could, since the helmet took up quite a bit of space around his skull. And even though he was more comfortable on the motorcycle now than he used to be, Junmyeon still clung to Yifan. He didn’t want to risk falling off if they had to come to a sudden stop, and although he wasn’t clutching Yifan for dear life like he had done in the past, he still kept his arms wrapped loosely about the other’s waist, and letting his hands grip small clutches of his shirt.

Despite being cold and knowing just how risky being on a motorcycle was, there was something oddly comforting about being pressed so close to Yifan, able to feel the body heat radiating off of him, along with the soft rise and fall of his belly when he breathed.

It was nice to finally have physical contact with another person after being alone for so long.

With the two of them being over an hour away from campus, Junmyeon didn’t feel nearly as nervous as before about hanging out with Yifan. Yifan had already explained to him that the bus lines didn’t stretch to where they were headed, and the chance that students would venture this far from campus – especially when there was plenty to do inside of the city – was slim to none. As usual, Yifan did not tell him where he planned on the two of them going for their date. All that he had mentioned was that the location was far away, and that they couldn’t begin their date until nightfall. Until then, they could find somewhere to stop to kill some time. Dusk was in a few hours, after all.

Junmyeon didn’t know what Yifan had in store for him, but he already knew that he was going to have a great time either way.

Inside of the helmet, Junmyeon’s lips curled up into a smile, and his arms looped around Yifan’s middle just a little tighter.

* * *

Out of all the articles of clothing in the world, Junmyeon detested Yifan’s lime green shoes the most. He wasn’t quite sure if they even counted as clothing specifically, but either way, Junmyeon hated them. If he was capable of burning them, he definitely would.

Thankfully, Yifan had worn a simplistic navy blue shirt with long sleeves beneath his leather jacket, coupled with a pair of jeans and boots, so Junmyeon wasn’t stuck looking at an atrocious outfit over the course of their date. However, they had started discussing fashion while wandering around one of the stores, and Yifan had given him a few too many details.

_“This is nice,” Junmyeon commented, holding the star-printed sweater up against his torso as he stared into the mirror that hung on a nearby wall. “I might get this, actually.”_

_Yifan, standing awkwardly beside him and clutching his helmet, spoke quietly. “If you want it…”_

_“I want it, but I don’t need it,” Junmyeon replied, sighing in defeat as he turned away from the mirror. He glanced down at the sweater. “I really need to be saving my money… Especially since I’m paying for my own schooling and am gonna have debt up to my eyeballs as it is.”_

_Yifan let out a rather forced cough. “I… I could get it for you if y—“_

_“No way, you aren’t buying it for me,” Junmyeon interrupted, giving the larger male a serious look. “You can’t keep buying me everything. You already paid for my food countless times, my museum entry, and my aquarium admission. It isn’t fair for you to constantly pay for all of my things.”_

_“Well maybe I_ want _to spoil my boyfriend,” Yifan argued, lunging out with his free hand and yanking the sweater right out of Junmyeon’s hold._

_“It’s just a sweater, Yifan! It’s not important,” Junmyeon whined, trying to tug it back out of Yifan’s hand, only to huff in frustration when Yifan held it above his head. It was far beyond Junmyeon’s reach, as Yifan was much taller than he was. “Don’t be like that.”_

_Still holding the article clothing up in the air, Yifan merely cocked one eyebrow. “Why are you so uptight about this? Like you said, it’s just a sweater. Let me buy it for you.”_

_Junmyeon grumbled. “Shouldn’t you be buying clothes for yourself?”_

_“What do you mean?” Yifan asked, obviously not following Junmyeon’s thought process as he scowled a little. The sweater, now forgotten, continued to dangle lifelessly in the air between them._

_“I’ve seen your clothes and a good portion of them need to be donated,” Junmyeon replied, lack of amusement oozing out of him. “Or burned, if we’re talking about your lime green shoes. But_ really _, a lot of your clothes either don’t match at all, or they’re flat out ugly.”_

_“Such as?” Yifan pressed, voice calm and more curious than anything._

_“Your flannel shirt was fine, but I can’t, even now, fathom why you wore it over that tacky dragon t-shirt,” Junmyeon began, holding up one finger. “That’s for starters. Second of all—“_

_“No, no, wait a minute,” Yifan interjected, his face darkening with a frown. “My dragon shirt is_ not _tacky!”_

_“It is, especially when you wear a flannel shirt and those hideous lime green shoes with it,” Junmyeon argued. “It didn’t match.”_

_“Red and green are complementary colors,” Yifan said stubbornly._

_“Dark red and lime green do_ not _match, especially when it’s clothing,” Junmyeon countered. “It was tacky. End of story.”_

_“If you must know, that dragon shirt is one of my favorites,” Yifan told him, furrowing his eyebrows together. “I’ve had it since I was a freshman.”_

_Junmyeon blinked a couple times before a look of pure terror crossed his face. “You’ve had that shirt since you were a university freshman? You’ve had that shirt for nearly fourteen_ years _?”_

_“It’s one of my favorite shirts,” Yifan repeated. “And I’ll have you know that I—Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?!”_

_Junmyeon had grabbed Yifan by the jacket and was literally dragging him along. Yifan was stumbling behind him, struggling not to trip as Junmyeon forced him through the aisles of clothing._

_“We’re going shopping,” Junmyeon said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. He cast a glance over his shoulder, giving Yifan a sour look. “I tried to keep quiet about your fashion choices because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but really, this is just too much. We’re getting you some new clothes.”_

_“There’s nothing wrong with what I have,” Yifan argued._

_“We’re getting you some new clothes whether you like it or not,” Junmyeon interrupted, pulling Yifan towards the larger sizes, seeing that Yifan was taller than he was. “I’m here, and this is something I really like. I can help you pick out some things that will make you look like a completely different person.”_

_Yifan instantly spoke again. “But Junmyeon—“_

_“Just trust me,” Junmyeon murmured as he at last released his death grip on Yifan’s jacket. “You can thank me later.”_

Holding Yifan’s motorcycle helmet close to his chest, Junmyeon was pacing outside of Yifan’s dressing room, waiting for the older man to get changed. They had gone through an enormous pile of clothing, choosing several outfits along the way that they both agreed suited Yifan’s figure well. Choosing outfits for Yifan was tricky, seeing that the man had a different body type than him and was much bigger, but Junmyeon was managing just fine.

Aside from Yifan having a borderline anxiety attack inside the dressing room over a sweater, things were going smoothly so far.

_“What material is this?” Yifan called from inside the dressing room. “This black sweater. What is it?”_

_“I don’t know,” Junmyeon replied, creating notches in the floorboards as he continued pacing back and forth. “Read the tag?”_

_“I can’t see it. You know I can’t read up close without my glasses,” Yifan grumbled in response. He sounded awfully worried. “Is it wool? It’s not wool, right?”_

_“No, it didn’t feel like wool when I picked it up. The texture isn’t right,” Junmyeon told him. “Does it matter that much?”_

_“Of course it matters,” Yifan practically howled. “I’m allergic to wool, and unless you want me to come out of here covered in rashes and as red as a firetruck, then I suggest we stay away from it at all costs.”_

_Junmyeon didn’t mean to laugh, but the mental image of it caused him to burst out into a fit of giggles._

He could hear Yifan rummaging around behind the closed door, and after a moment, he heard the familiar rattling of the doorknob. At last stopping in his tracks, Junmyeon turned, glancing up to see how Yifan looked. He always gave Yifan feedback on his appearance whenever he shuffled out of the dressing room to show Junmyeon what he was wearing. He could tell Yifan was uncomfortable – shy, even – by how he kept staring at his feet nearly the entire time. It was obvious Yifan didn’t go shopping a lot, but that didn’t mean that Junmyeon wasn’t going to lend a helping hand, and boost his confidence when need be.

“How is this?” Yifan piped up then, hesitance lacing his voice as he, once again, crept slowly out of the room. “Does it look too tight?”

“Button-ups look better when they’re form…fitting…” Junmyeon started, only to trail off as he at last glanced up to see Yifan’s appearance. The professor was standing awkwardly in the doorway, shifting his weight from foot to foot. There was an embarrassed flush coating his ears, but Junmyeon hardly even noticed. Yifan typically wore an assortment of baggier clothing, so it was one of the few instances Junmyeon had ever seen Yifan wear something that hugged his body so closely. And it did a world of difference. Junmyeon could see practically every dip and curve his torso held, and the pull of the shirt near his chest showed off his broad shoulders perfectly. He had thrown on a matching pair of slacks, and was uncomfortably clutching the matching blazer in his large hands. Junmyeon blinked several times, opening and closing his mouth stupidly for a moment before he at last managed to get a grip, and cleared his throat. “Does it pull taut around your upper back or under your arms if you move your arms towards your chest? If not, it’s not too tight.”

Yifan mimicked Junmyeon’s words, rolling his shoulders and shifting his upper arms around to test the material. Seeming satisfied, he at last gave Junmyeon his full attention, looking up at him with hesitant eyes. “It’s not bad then?”

“Why on earth would it be? It looks great on you,” Junmyeon told him, clutching Yifan’s helmet just a little tighter. “Put the blazer on too, and then look in the mirror.”

Yifan immediately obeyed, shrugging the material on and swiveling on his heel so that he could face the full-length mirror inside of his dressing room. Junmyeon crept behind him, already reaching out with one hand so that he could smooth out the lingering wrinkles in the back of the blazer. Gazing past Yifan, he too stared into the mirror, taking in the man’s appearance. Yifan was biting nervously at his lower lip, toying with the buttons on the blazer, as if unsure of what to do with his hands. Junmyeon at last reached out and gently pushed at them with his own, and Yifan thankfully caught on to the hint that he needed to lower them. The two of them then stood there for a long moment, staring into the glass, and Junmyeon only then noticed how dry his mouth was.

“You look so different,” Junmyeon finally murmured, voice hardly above a whisper. His left hand was absently resting on Yifan’s back as he held the helmet with his right. “Like I said, a completely different person. This is incredible.”

“It looks okay?” Yifan asked, uncertainty lining his voice.

“It looks a _lot_ better than okay. Yifan, look at yourself. You look _amazing_ ,” Junmyeon gushed, his round face breaking out into an enormous smile, showing off pearly white teeth. “And you love accessories, so it’s perfect. Your rings would match this beautifully.”

“Ah…” Yifan began, absently scratching at the back of his neck, a shy smile passing his lips. “That’s good then. I guess this one is a keeper.”

“You don’t sound too confident. This isn’t like you,” Junmyeon murmured, at last tearing his eyes off of the mirror to glance up at his boyfriend. “Is something bothering you?”

“No, it’s just… It’s weird. I hardly ever buy clothes. Fashion is just something I’ve always been horrible at, even before I was your age,” Yifan replied, lifting his chin so that he could undo the button fastened at the top of the shirt. “And I’ll admit that I’m not very good at it, because I’m not. No point in lying. So yeah, it’s just weird to me, going clothes shopping with you like this. It’s something new to me because I never really learned how to match my clothes or anything… Embarrassing, but… You get the point.”

“We all have to start somewhere,” Junmyeon told him, smiling softly as he rubbed his hand gently over Yifan’s back in a comforting gesture. “But like I told you, I love this kind of stuff. I’m always here to help. But for now, get that one too. You look really good in it.”

“Well, if fashion is something you enjoy, and something you’re good at,” Yifan began, shrugging off the blazer and tossing it aside. He then carelessly began to unbutton his shirt. Junmyeon’s eyes instantly shot off to the side, not daring to steal a glance at the man’s bare chest. “Have you considered taking a few fashion design classes at the school? You would probably be a great candidate for a fashion major.”

“I never really thought of that,” Junmyeon echoed, blinking in surprise. “You think it would be a good idea?”

“I’m positive. You would be great at it,” Yifan told him, sloughing off his shirt. Junmyeon could see his collarbones out of his peripheral vision, and he swallowed harshly, mouth dry and throat aching suddenly. “And that’s coming from me as a professor, not me as your boyfriend.”

Junmyeon couldn’t help but blush then, and it wasn’t from the fact Yifan was standing there next to him half-naked.

* * *

Junmyeon’s teeth were chattering, and even though Yifan’s hand was so warm and snug about his own, he was still absolutely _freezing_.

With nightfall came colder air, and Junmyeon was shivering as he followed Yifan through the darkness. If he had known their date was going to take place outside, he definitely would have worn heavier clothing, but the Junmyeon of the past didn’t know any better. So there he was, holding Yifan’s hand as the professor led him down a darkened path as leaves and twigs crunched beneath his shoes, and he shivered the entire way. Yifan was holding a flashlight with his free hand, having pulled it out of his saddlebag after he had parked the motorcycle. It was definitely creepy, trudging down a path in the middle of the woods after dark. They were away from the city, and the light pollution that tainted the skies was not present here. It was completely _black_ , and Junmyeon, deep down, was actually getting scared. He clutched Yifan’s hand tighter, shivering as he stepped a bit closer to Yifan’s large frame.

“Yifan, where are you taking me?” Junmyeon squeaked, clutching Yifan’s hand tightly. “Is this going to be like those crime shows where you take me out to the middle of nowhere and then murder me?”

Yifan actually laughed at that, the noise soft and amused. “Murder you? Please. You’re in much better shape than I am, I’m sure you could overpower me easily. So no, that’s not why we’re here. This is a shortcut. I know it’s super creepy right now, but trust me, it’ll be worth it. There’s always other people near the camping grounds. This way we don’t have to worry about hiking out to the area; this path will take us right to it.”

“Camping grounds?” Junmyeon asked, blinking in the darkness. They weren’t camping, were they? All Yifan had brought out of his saddlebags to take with them into the woods was a large duffle bag that had been folded up inside of it. His helmet was thrown into the bottom, and Junmyeon had no idea what on earth could possibly be hiding inside of that bag, but he knew a tent was not one of them. “Why?”

“There’s something I want you to see that you can’t see inside of the city,” Yifan murmured. A loud _snap_ sounded beneath his foot as he stepped on a twig, causing it to break beneath him, and Junmyeon jumped violently at the sound of it. “I thought you would like it. Just trust me. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

A few minutes felt more like a century to Junmyeon. He was cold. He was shaking. He was honestly rather terrified. All he could see was darkness and it was as if every little noise was setting him off, making him jump every few seconds. It was downright nerve-wracking, and the little beam of light coming from Yifan’s flashlight definitely was not helping.

At long last, the trail ended, and Yifan tugged him by the hand, leading him into a clearing. There was finally some light in the distance, and Junmyeon realized it was coming from campfires from the other people stationed in the area nearby. He could just barely make out the shapes of a few tents lingering behind some patches of trees.

“I told you I wasn’t going to bring you out here to murder you,” Yifan joked, shuffling over a few more paces before abruptly dropping his duffle bag onto the ground, and stooping down to unzip it. Junmyeon peeped curiously over the other’s shoulder, blinking in surprise when Yifan began to pull out a blanket. “A bit of an odd kind of date this is gonna be, but I hope you like it anyway.”

“What exactly are we doing?” Junmyeon asked in confusion, watching as Yifan fanned out the blanket before draping it across the dirt. He couldn’t help but blink in surprise as he watched Yifan abruptly plop down on it after spreading it out to its maximum.

Yifan just pointed heavenward with his index finger. “Did you even bother to look above you yet?”

Puzzled, Junmyeon’s head then tilted backwards to examine the darkened sky above them. Immediately, a soft sound of pure amazement passed his lips. Even with the few campfires burning nearby, they were so far from the main cities that the sky itself was at last dark. And dotted across the night sky, Junmyeon could see stars. _Tons_ of stars, splattered across a velvety black sky.

“Wow,” Junmyeon breathed at last, his head still tipped back to admire the view above him. Even though they were inside of a forest, the clearing they were presently within gave them enough free space so that the treetops didn’t completely block their view. “That’s beautiful.”

“Like I said, you can’t see this inside of a city. The light pollution blocks it all out,” Yifan commented, digging around in his duffle bag before pulling out a bag of trail mix. “Come sit down.”

And Junmyeon did, moving closer before slowly seating himself on the blanket next to Yifan. He was still shivering inside of his thin jacket, curling up on himself unconsciously as he looked up at the sky. He could hear Yifan crunching on something, and because of it, he never heard Yifan move. Suddenly, something wrapped around him, something warm and soft and smelling suspiciously like leather.

It was Yifan’s jacket.

“If you were cold, you should have told me,” Yifan murmured, scooting over a bit, leaving the bag of snacks sitting on the blanket between them. He stretched out his long legs then and stared up at the sky. “I don’t want you to get sick, for starters, and you can’t exactly have a nice time if you’re freezing half to death.”

Junmyeon’s smile was shy as his tiny fingers clutched at the hem of the leather jacket, keeping it wrapped tightly about his shoulders. “Thanks, Yifan.”

“Sure,” Yifan murmured immediately in response, not bothering to glance over at Junmyeon, instead staring up at the sky. Digging around inside of his bag, he extracted a small towel, and after a moment, he rolled it up into a tube-like shape. Setting it down on the blanket, Yifan then laid down on his back, letting his head rest against the towel. Junmyeon just stared down at him with a grin of amusement on his lips. “Have you ever gone stargazing, Junmyeon?”

“Not with another person, no. You know I was from a small town, so we could see the stars like this too. I’d stay outside after dark sometimes and just stare at them every now and again,” Junmyeon replied, shrugging his shoulders loosely. “But I’ve never learned much about them. I can’t tell you any names or constellation shapes or anything, but I do think they’re very pretty.”

“They’re very beautiful. It’s a bit crazy when you think about it. Four hundred billion stars in just _our_ galaxy,” Yifan said softly, letting his hands rest atop of his stomach as he stared up at the sky. “And you know we have billions of galaxies in this big world of ours. Who knows how many stars are actually out there. It’s insane.”

Taking his phone out of his pocket to ensure he wouldn’t accidentally crush it, Junmyeon set it aside and slowly laid down on the blanket beside Yifan. The earth beneath them was bumpy and uncomfortable but Junmyeon found that he didn’t mind, especially when Yifan wiggled over to let him have half of the towel to keep his head off the ground. Junmyeon draped the leather jacket over his body like a makeshift blanket and cuddled close to Yifan’s frame for additional warmth.

“You know a lot about this, it sounds like,” he said softly, staring up at the sky.

“Well, you’re never too old to continue learning about things. And you have to admit, space is pretty damn cool. I’ve been looking into astronomy and stuff for quite a while. I never really wanted to do anything with it for a job,” Yifan continued, “but it’s always been pretty interesting to me. I like learning about it. There’s nothing quite like the universe.”

“Well, that’s true,” Junmyeon agreed, a soft laugh bubbling out of him as he squished himself closer to Yifan’s large, warm body. “What can you tell me about it?”

“That depends on what you want to know,” Yifan murmured, tearing his gaze from the sky above to give his boyfriend a curious glance.

“I want to know everything,” Junmyeon whispered in response.

And Yifan told him all that he knew. Yifan told him about the different colors of stars, the way their lifespan correlated to their size, their composition. Yifan told him about binary stars, about random stars that were closer to their world than others, about stars that were heavier than the sun. And when he ran out of fun facts, Yifan, still lying there beside him on their blanket, lifted his arm towards the heavens and began to point out things to Junmyeon, one by one. He whispered about the constellations, pointing out their shapes and telling Junmyeon ancient myths and tales about astrology.

Junmyeon ate up every word, and Yifan’s soft, monotonous voice was oddly comforting. And for a moment, Junmyeon no longer felt like he was lying on a thin blanket atop of the dirt. Instead, he felt sleepy, cozy, and so wonderfully warm, as if he was curled up within the softest bed. His eyelids were heavy. And when Yifan swiveled his head to one side, just enough to place a tender kiss to Junmyeon’s temple, all he could do was let out a soft, pleased sigh.

“Sleepy?” Yifan whispered to him.

“Yes. I haven’t felt this relaxed in a while,” Junmyeon admitted, and he laughed softly, forcing himself to sit up. He was reluctant, but he knew already that if he kept lying there, he really _was_ going to fall asleep soon.

Yifan blinked, concern evident on his face as he struggled to sit upright as well. “Do you want me to take you home? The last thing I want is for you to fall asleep on the bike and fall off.”

“No, I… I’ll be okay,” Junmyeon told him, offering Yifan a tired but satisfied smile. “I don’t want to go back yet. We haven’t been here long, and it’s nice here.”

Yifan’s expression softened, the tiniest of grins quirking at the edges of his mouth. Junmyeon could see him edging closer. Their hands brushed together atop of the blanket. And yet, Junmyeon did not care one bit that Yifan was leaning closer and closer to him. “Well, when you want to go home, just say the word.”

Yifan kissed him then, so softly and so gently that Junmyeon could feel his body instantly relaxing at the contact. Yifan’s kisses were unlike the kisses he shared with his ex-boyfriends, and they were so much more loving on top of it all. Junmyeon did not mind one bit how Yifan kissed him slowly like that, breaking the kiss only to place another one upon his lips. It was a slow and repetitive cycle, nothing but the gentle and loving brush of lips against lips as Yifan’s right hand snaked upward to thread gently through his hair.

He was drowning, and Junmyeon was beginning to welcome it.

He didn’t know how long they kissed. It felt like forever, as if time had frozen around them. Yifan’s lips brushed against his in a warm and loving kiss, and Junmyeon could feel the soft ghosting of his breath against his mouth as Yifan whispered to him.

“Has anyone,” Yifan started, lowering his head just enough to press a loving kiss along Junmyeon’s jawbone, “French-kissed you before, Junmyeon?”

Yifan kissed the side of his neck, and Junmyeon’s eyelids fluttered. “No…”

“Then I guess,” Yifan murmured, and Junmyeon shivered, still clutching handfuls of Yifan’s leather coat to keep it wrapped around his body. The man’s breath was against his mouth, and Junmyeon did not dare open his eyes, knowing Yifan was so close to him now, so horribly but wonderfully close. “I’ll be your first.”

Yifan slotted his lips over his own all over again, those warm plush lips that were slowly making Junmyeon fall overboard. Yifan kissed him slowly, softly, and it was then Junmyeon felt something prodding at his mouth, as if asking him for his permission. And although Junmyeon had never, not once, French-kissed anyone, it was as if his body was functioning on autopilot.

His lips parted, and with a tender intake of breath, Yifan slipped his tongue inside of his mouth.

And in that moment, a whirlwind of thoughts bombarded Junmyeon’s brain. He thought about the original awkwardness between him and Yifan. He thought about their trips to the museum, the aquarium, the mall. He thought about helping Yifan select new outfits, and he thought about wandering down corridors and through water-filled halls as the two of them walked hand in hand. He thought about their meals together, sharing discussions and emotions and _laughter_.

And in a few seconds, the entire day flashed before his eyes. He remembered riding on the motorcycle with Yifan, he remembered the two of them spending an eternity shopping together, picking out clothes and accessories and taking silly pictures together as they tried on oversized sunglasses and ugly hats. He remembered the two of them having to stop and take a break as they hefted around far too many shopping bags, and he remembered how stiff Yifan’s back was as they sat there together on a little wooden bench. He remembered the two of them eating lunch together in the food court, he remembered begging Yifan to let him have a taste of his meal, and he remembered Yifan putting up a fight that lasted only a moment before the man caved and spoon-fed him a bite of his sundae. He remembered their drive on a nighttime road, and he remembers their walk down a pitch black trail in the woods.

Happiness thrummed through Junmyeon’s veins and he relaxed then. He could feel Yifan’s lips moving slowly, his tongue curling so gently about his own, and unable to stop himself, Junmyeon moaned softly into Yifan’s mouth as he began to fall and let himself drown in the emotions overtaking him.

Junmyeon’s phone lit up with a single text – _where are you?_ – that went unseen as the two continued to exchange an assortment of loving kisses beneath the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 25 Oct 2016


	16. Proportion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ PROPORTION ]_
> 
> _the harmonious relation of parts to each other as a whole_
> 
> A/N: Small warning this chapter for some really light sexual content/themes

_Junmyeon (7:19 PM)  
I hate studying :( It makes me feel dumb._

_Yifan (7:22 PM)_  
It’s really not that difficult once you find  
something that works for you.  
What class is it for?

_Junmyeon (7:25 PM)_  
Okay mister ‘I had a perfect GPA for over half  
of my time in university’, that’s easy for you to say.  
Can’t you let me borrow your brain?  
Or teach me how to cram all this junk into my head?  
And it’s for two classes… :/ Biology and history.

_Yifan (7:27 PM)_  
Not sure if you were joking or not but if you want  
someone to help you study, I really wouldn’t mind.  
Like I said before, my grades were great. So… Yeah.  
I don’t really know any staff outside of my department,  
and Luhan of course, so I don’t know how your bio professor is…  
But once you figure out the formatting for Luhan’s exams,  
and know your info, you’ll be fine.

_Junmyeon (7:30 PM)_  
You’d really help me study? That’s so nice of you.  
And I don’t understand. What do you mean about Luhan…?

_Yifan (7:32 PM)_  
He never changes up his exams. They’re all the same format.  
A multiple choice section, then a fill in the blank section,  
and then a short answer section.  
He gives like five prompts and you pick three to write a  
couple paragraphs about. It’s not as bad as he makes it sound.

_Junmyeon (7:33 PM)  
That sounds hard though :(_

_Yifan (7:35 PM)_  
It’s not that bad. Luhan tries to make his exams sound  
tough as a scare tactic. Trust me, it’s not that hard,  
and you always attend lecture anyway. Nothing to worry about.

_Junmyeon (7:37 PM)_  
I’m bad at short answer questions.  
There’s plenty to worry about.

_Yifan (7:38 PM)_  
Just pull something out of your ass as a last resort  
if you can’t think of anything.  
It’s always best to put SOMETHING down.

_Junmyeon (7:40 PM)  
Pull it…omg._

_Yifan (7:41 PM)_  
Yeah. Pull it right out of your ass.  
Just bear down and let it go.

_Junmyeon (7:43 PM)_  
I’m crying please stop talking like that.  
What on earth has gotten into you?

_Yifan (7:46 PM)_  
I’ve had like five donuts and three cups of coffee  
and an energy drink my hands are shaking tbh.  
I think my heart is gonna explode from all the sugar and caffeine.  
I feel like I’ve crossed planes into an alternate dimension.

_Junmyeon (7:47 PM)  
Why on earth did you eat all of that?!_

_Yifan (7:50 PM)_  
I was hungry but too lazy to cook so I ate some donut  
 and I need to get this painting finished so I had an energy  
drink to try to give me a boost because I was all sluggish but I  
guess added in with the coffee I had earlier it was TOO much caffeine.

_Junmyeon (7:52 PM)_  
I don’t know what was going through your head  
to think that was a good idea. Don’t do that again.

_Yifan (7:54 PM)_  
I probably won’t have another chance to.  
I’ll probably die from this.

_Junmyeon (7:55 PM)  
You’re not gonna die, Yifan._

_Yifan (7:57 PM)_  
I am, I SOOO am, I bet my heart is gonna keep beating  
this fast until it pops like a fucking balloon.  
The cops are gonna find my corpse surrounded by art  
supplies and sugary/caffeinated things and be like wow  
this dude had some major addiction problems.

_Junmyeon (7:58 PM)_  
Why are you being so dramatic omg calm down.  
You’re just having a really bad sugar rush…caffeine…thing.  
You’ll be fine.

_Yifan (8:00 PM)  
No, I’m dying._

_Junmyeon (8:01 PM)  
You’re not dying. You’ll be fine. Relax._

_Yifan (8:03 PM)_  
I’m already falling into the void.  
Death will accept me into its cold embrace and  
will smell like that energy drink and I will drown  
in caffeine even in the afterlife.

_Junmyeon (8:04 PM)  
You’re being sooo overdramatic right now calm down you big diva._

_Yifan (8:06 PM)_  
I’m not a diva, just a shell of a man  
destroyed by foods that I thought I could trust.

He really didn’t mean to laugh, but Junmyeon just couldn’t help it. Yifan was so different compared to how he was when Junmyeon had first met him. Junmyeon never would have expected for the cold, quiet professor to have such a dramatic side to his personality. Yifan was definitely not all that he appeared. It was as if a shell had been peeled away from his disposition, revealing a man who could be overdramatic and flirtatious and playful and it was so odd but so wonderful to see at the same time.

It was rather interesting as well. Yifan was changing, and Junmyeon didn’t quite know _why_. Yifan was slowly opening up to him and showing more of his true colors, and while Junmyeon liked the changes, they were strange to see. Junmyeon wasn’t sure as to what had happened for Yifan to start opening up to him like this, but he definitely didn’t mind it.

“You’re _still_ on your phone?” Sehun asked then, breaking the comfortable silence that had filled their dorm room. Junmyeon jumped, clutching his phone a bit tighter to avoid dropping it as he swiveled around in his chair. Sehun was lounging on his bed, peering over his own phone to give Junmyeon an exasperated look. “So much for studying.”

“I am studying,” Junmyeon argued, pursing his lips together. “I’m just taking a break.”

“For someone who claims to have been so busy he couldn’t hang out, you sure do all of a sudden have a lot of time to be on your phone,” Sehun replied bitterly.

Junmyeon blinked in surprise. His roommate’s attitude was quite sour tonight, and Junmyeon was not at all used to it. He frowned slowly. “What’s wrong with you? Are you mad at me or something because I didn’t hang out with you guys?”

“I don’t care that you didn’t hang out with us,” Sehun said, leaning back into his pillows, “but it really pisses me off that you lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie to you!” Junmyeon exclaimed, turning around entirely in his seat to give Sehun a bewildered look. “What are you talking about?”

“Really? So you couldn’t hang out because you had too much studying but then you ran off to god-knows-where the same night?” Sehun started, and Junmyeon swallowed, knowing already he was being backed into a corner. Sehun did have a point, and Junmyeon knew it.

He had told Sehun he was too busy to do anything, but while Sehun was out with his friends, Junmyeon had rushed out of the dorm to go on his date with Yifan. Sehun returned sooner than Junmyeon thought that he would, and when Junmyeon didn’t answer his text about where he was, Sehun sent him several more until he had no choice but to reply, worrying that Sehun would think something bad happened to him. He had said that he was fine and that he would explain later.

But, of course, things did not quite go in Junmyeon’s favor when he returned home. It was extremely late when he made it back onto campus, and Yifan gave him a deep and loving kiss before they parted ways. Junmyeon stumbled into their dorm room at nearly midnight, and with it being the weekend, Sehun was still awake.

It had started out with gentle conversation, but when Junmyeon began to lie and run in circles about where he had been, it had set off Sehun’s temper. They were arguing once more whether Junmyeon liked it or not.

_“You could have at least told me you were going somewhere!” Sehun shouted. “You worried the ever-living hell out of me!”_

_“I texted you back and told you I was fine!” Junmyeon argued as he kicked off his shoes. “It’s not that big of a deal. I’m an adult and if I wanna go out then I will.”_

_“Fine. Whatever. If that’s how you wanna be,” Sehun said as he switched off his lamp and clambered into bed, “then be that way. I’m too tired to deal with this.”_

But the argument had never been finished, and it was officially making itself known all over again. Junmyeon didn’t even know how to respond, so he just swallowed, able to tell that Sehun was furious.

“It’s a lot different when you don’t tell anyone you’re planning on leaving and then just disappear without saying a word, especially when you already told me you were too busy to go anywhere,” Sehun snapped then. “What’s so important that you can’t just tell me straight up what’s going on? Do you not want me to know where you’re going or who you’re going with?”

Junmyeon’s face burned red. “It isn’t any of your business! I get that you were worried but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s none of your business regarding where I go or who I hang out with!”

“You’re my roommate,” Sehun practically snarled, “so it is my business—“

“It isn’t your business, Sehun! You aren’t my mother! I’m _grown_ and I’ll do what I want and you don’t have the right to say anything to me about it!” Junmyeon screamed, his face flushed and blotchy. Gathering his books, his laptop, and his phone, Junmyeon was officially fumbling as he tried to toss everything into his backpack. He had to get out of here. He was borderline panicking from the miniature interrogation and who knew what would slip out if Sehun kept grilling him like this. “So if you don’t _mind_ could you just give me some space?!”

“Now where the hell are you going? What, are you too much of a coward to finish an argument?” Sehun snapped at him, and Junmyeon felt the thread inside of him keeping his composure intact snap in half.

“To the library! Is that too much to ask for now?!” Junmyeon shrieked, standing in the threshold of their room as he tugged on his shoes. “I get that you’re stressed out and tired but that doesn’t mean you have to take it all out on me just because you’re frustrated! And if you think I’m lying to you this time then just follow me there since you’re suddenly so obsessed with what I’m doing!”

With his keys clutched in his hand, Junmyeon stormed out, and slammed the door behind him.

* * *

Junmyeon was the embodiment of stress at the moment. After his fallout with Sehun, the atmosphere between the two of them in general, along with the air in their dorm room, was much heavier and even tenser. They were back to square one, just like they had been the last time they fought, constantly avoiding one another instead of trying to solve the underlying problem. He didn’t see Sehun very much after their fight. It was just like before where they constantly skirted around each other, one person at home while the other wasn’t. Junmyeon tried to ignore the frustrated glances he was gaining from Zitao as the younger male tried to get him and Sehun to talk again, but it was awfully difficult.

Junmyeon had indeed walked over to the library after the argument, trying to clear his head and finish cramming for his exams. He was still upset and irritated, so focusing was extremely difficult. It didn’t help that Yifan had texted him and told him that he had to go so that he could get some work done. Junmyeon didn’t have much of a choice from there on out but to try to study. When he returned later that night, Sehun was already asleep, snoring quietly in his bed. Junmyeon made sure to stay as quiet as he could so that he wouldn’t wake the other up, knowing that would only make things worse.

And from there it became a weird tango of avoiding one another and not speaking, juggling the blame between the two of them and refusing to compromise. The dorm had grown quiet once again as Sehun spent more time outside of their room than he did within it. It was _too_ quiet in a way, and it made Junmyeon feel odd to sit there in the empty room as he tried to paint and study.

He was distracted. After completing both of his exams – and greeted by Luhan’s smiling face when Junmyeon handed in his test – Junmyeon began to mull over the argument between him and Sehun all over again. Now that his exams for the week were over, there was nothing else to occupy his mind. He had tried to ignore it, but there it was, lingering in the back of his brain.

It had started to bother him so much that he wound up texting Yifan about it, just so that he could get an unbiased opinion about the situation. Sure, Zitao surely would have given his two cents, but Junmyeon wanted to hear from someone who hadn’t touched base with the problem at hand before.

Yifan’s words were brutally honest: _the two of you need to stop acting like children and talk it out so that you can come to a compromise._

But that was easier said than done when the two of them never seemed to be home at the same time anymore. Junmyeon could have done it via text, but he knew that would be a cowardly move. He wanted to discuss it with Sehun face to face. But with the two of them constantly skating around one another, there was no time. Perhaps when the week ended, and they were both a little less busy with classes, studying, and work, there would be more time for discussion.

Well, just not on Saturday night. He and Yifan had, once again, made plans earlier in the week to hang out. It was extremely difficult for the two of them to find time for each other on weekdays. Junmyeon was a busy student and Yifan, as a professor, had a full schedule on his plate as well. There just weren’t enough hours in a day for them. But Junmyeon didn’t mind. Making plans with Yifan gave him something to look forward to at the end of the week, and as a stressed out university student, _good_ excitement was a very welcomed thing in his life.

Unfortunately, things didn’t always go as planned.

_Yifan (1:21 PM)  
Hey. I hope you’re up by now._

_Junmyeon (1:25 PM)  
I am! I’m surprised you are, considering you’re up all night. What’s up?_

_Yifan (1:28 PM)  
Listen, I’m sorry, I’m REALLY sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to see you tonight._

_Junmyeon (1:30 PM)_  
What? Why? :( I was so excited to hang out with you…  
Did I do something wrong?

_Yifan (1:34 PM)_  
No, no, trust me, it isn’t you. You didn’t do anything.  
Listen, I just… Ah, how to explain…  
Something came up. And I can’t really, uh… Go anywhere.

_Junmyeon (1:37 PM)_  
???  
What do you mean…?

_Yifan (1:39 PM)_  
I fell earlier and now my back hurts so bad I can barely stand it.  
I doubt I’ll be able to go anywhere today, and I’m sorry.  
I’ll make it up to you somehow.

_Junmyeon (1:42 PM)_  
WHAT? I don’t understand. ;;  
How did you fall? Are you going to be okay? Do you need to see a doctor?  
I mean I can’t drive so I can’t take you to the hospital  
but I can come over to help if you need help!

_Yifan (1:44 PM)_  
Calm down, calm down. I’ll be fine. It just really hurts.  
I don’t need a doctor. If I just lie down for a while and  
put some heat on it, it should be alright. I think.  
I fell off my barstool while I was painting.  
And uh, well, you could come over if you wanted. I wouldn’t mind.  
Wouldn’t be much of a date but… You’d still get to see me.  
If that counts at all?

_Junmyeon (1:47 PM)_  
Of course it counts!  
Hanging out wouldn’t be the same if it wasn’t with you.  
You’re my boyfriend, you dummy, it’s always nice to see you.  
And listen. Our dates are never super extravagant to begin  
with, but they’re still special because YOU’RE there with me. Okay? :)

_Yifan (1:50 PM)_  
Off topic but I love how you use smiley faces when you text me.  
It’s so cute. It’s cute and you’re cute.

_Junmyeon (1:52 PM)  
Don’t even start you’re gonna make me blush and I’m in public right now!!_

_Yifan (1:54 PM)_  
That’s a shame that I’m not there to see it.  
Maybe you should come over just so I can see that pretty face turn red ;-)

_Junmyeon (1:58 PM)_  
Please stop teasing me. I’m just a little university student  
trying to make it in this world and I don’t need my flirtatious  
boyfriend to make it worse for me.

_Yifan (2:01 PM)_  
You’re so fun to tease, though. You get so flustered.  
It’s so damn cute. You’re so cute~

_Junmyeon (2:04 PM)  
Yifan please I’m a grown man I’m not cute :(_

_Yifan (2:06 PM)_  
Nah you’re definitely the cutest. Small and cute with a  
pretty face and an even prettier smile.  
100% cute. Certified cutie alert.

_Junmyeon (2:07 PM)  
Bye Yifan._

_Yifan (2:09 PM)_  
Bye, make sure to swing by later since you’re  
leaving me hanging. Here’s my address.  
Not too far, I promise. See you tonight.

It was odd, heading up the flight of stairs outside of Yifan’s apartment. Yifan had been telling the truth thankfully about it not being too far. Junmyeon could have walked the distance if he had wanted to, but it was faster just to hop on the bus and then walk the remaining few blocks. Sure enough, he had finally seen the red brick of Yifan’s apartment complex come into view. Junmyeon wanted to see his boyfriend, but knowing that he was heading into Yifan’s territory, into his _home_ , his _professor’s_ home, that was just a whole new realm of strange. It was definitely going to take some getting used to.

It didn’t surprise him now that Yifan didn’t think he would be able to hang out. Yifan lived on the fourth floor and Junmyeon had not seen an elevator anywhere in sight, only stairs. If his back was hurting that badly, stairs were definitely not going to be his friend.

There was a small plaque with _4120_ on the front door, and Junmyeon drew in a sharp breath before raising one fist and knocking loudly upon the surface. He waited. When there was no reply, he knocked again, a little louder this time. At last, he heard a bit of rustling from inside, and then the door at last popped open, only now filled by Yifan’s large form.

Yifan’s large form covered in a pair of black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt that was stretched a little too tightly over his shoulders and a _tattoo_ on his bicep.

Before Yifan could even say hello, Junmyeon opened his mouth and was already blabbering, his words coming out in an enormous run-on sentence. “Holy _crap_ you have a tattoo that’s so cool I never knew you even had one because you’re always covered up I—Wow.”

Yifan blinked once, then twice, and then finally three times before slowly cocking his head to one side, obviously confused. “What do you mean you didn’t know? I took my shirt off in front of you in the dressing room when we were out shopping.”

“I, ah… I tried not to look,” Junmyeon admitted quietly, missing Yifan’s amused grin as he glanced down at his shoes. “I, uh, didn’t want to be rude.”

“More like you were too shy to look at me,” Yifan argued playfully, laughing a bit when Junmyeon’s face flushed. Yifan shuffled sideways to grant Junmyeon access to his apartment. “You’re a guy. It’s not like you don’t know what a dude’s chest looks like.”

“I didn’t want to embarrass you,” Junmyeon said meekly as he stepped inside Yifan’s apartment, kicking off his shoes instantly.

“Embarrass me? Yeah, whatever. I took my shirt off on my own; maybe I would’ve liked it if you had looked,” Yifan replied as he closed the door and locked it behind him. Working on slipping off his remaining shoe, Junmyeon glanced up to see Yifan shuffling slowly across the carpeted floor, heading in the direction of his living room. “A compliment would have been great. Like ‘wow Yifan you’re so buff’.”

Junmyeon busted out laughing. “You’re not buff. Anyone who eats as many donuts as you do has a snowball’s chance in hell of being ripped.”

“Wow, you’ve been here like two minutes and you’re already being mean to me,” Yifan said with a huff as he sank down slowly onto his couch. “So rude…”

Junmyeon just rolled his eyes, a smile on his face as he walked over to the couch as well, taking a seat. The TV sitting across from Yifan’s couch was on, playing some cooking show Junmyeon had never seen before. He paused for a moment to look around, taking in the sight of Yifan’s home. Yifan had simplistic taste he noticed, his furniture compiled of dark woods and his decorations mostly monochromatic. There were a few paintings that held bursts of color on the walls, and Junmyeon was already standing up and wandering over to them to get a better look.

“Did you paint these?” Junmyeon asked, standing before a canvas that was decorated with a woodland scene at dusk. When Yifan hummed in confirmation, Junmyeon couldn’t stop himself from grinning as he noticed the small _Kris_ written with paint in the bottom right corner of each canvas. “Yifan, these are beautiful. Your art is amazing.”

“Thanks,” Yifan called from his spot on the couch. Junmyeon glanced over, instantly noticing how stiff Yifan was sitting. “Remind me to show you my studio later. Where all the magic and frustration happens.”

“Sure. I’d love to see it,” Junmyeon said honestly as he trekked back over towards the couch. He worriedly bit at his lower lip as he stared down at Yifan. “How’s your back doing?”

“Still hurts like hell but not as bad as it did at lunchtime,” Yifan admitted, sighing. “It was so stupid. I turned around to try to grab some paint off my table and the next thing I knew, I hit the floor. Fell right off my stool. And you know that even though this is carpet, underneath it – and it’s damn thin, mind you – it’s nothing but concrete. And imagine my luck: I landed on my back.”

“Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor?” Junmyeon fussed.

“I’m sure. It’ll go away. It always does.” Yifan huffed and reached around with one hand to press it against his lower back. “It just _hurts_. It always does, but when I fell, it hasn’t hurt that bad in years. And normally just my lower back bothers me but lately my whole damn back is starting to bother me.”

“Are you stressed?” Junmyeon asked, his eyebrows rising, eyes widening a little. “That can cause back pain, you know.”

“I probably am. People think being a professor is easy and it definitely isn’t,” Yifan drawled in response, still cradling his hand against his spine. “Not that I would know the difference between stress pain and just general pain. Like I said, it’s been bugging me for years. So who knows.”

“Um… Yifan, I know this is going to sound really, _really_ weird, but do you want me to see if I can help?” Junmyeon offered hesitantly. “I mean, I’m no professional, but when my mom was sick, she had a lot of pain too. Just getting some contact there would probably help you.”

“Contact?” Yifan asked, obviously confused.

“Yes, like massages. It makes your muscles less stiff and increases the blood flow so it hurts less,” Junmyeon continued. “And you said your back bothers you a lot, so maybe something like that could help you.”

Yifan just let out a soft snort through his nose. “If you’re offering to massage my back then who am I to say no? As long as it’s been hurting, I’ll try anything at this point.”

“I’m no professional,” Junmyeon warned, watching Yifan struggle for a moment before at last managing to heave himself off the couch and onto his own two feet. “But I’ve done this sort of thing before so I promise I won’t accidentally hurt you.”

“I trust you. Don’t worry,” Yifan replied, lying down on his stomach on the carpet when Junmyeon motioned for him to do so. Junmyeon handed him a pillow from the couch and Yifan obediently tucked it beneath his chin. “Warning you now: now that I’m down here, I doubt I’ll be able to get up.”

“Well, I’m here. I can help you up if you can’t stand,” Junmyeon said as he seated himself on the carpet. Yifan didn’t reply, lying his head down on the pillow. Up close, Junmyeon paused for a moment to examine Yifan’s tattoo. Noticing it was in the shape of a scorpion, Junmyeon then turned his attention onto Yifan’s back. The man’s shirt was extremely thin, so Junmyeon didn’t bother telling him to remove it. “I’m gonna start near your neck and work down, alright? If anything, _anything_ hurts, tell me. I don’t want to make your pain worse.”

Yifan hummed softly in response, and Junmyeon took that as a sign for him to start.

It was definitely awkward at first. He and Yifan hadn’t shared much physical contact yet, aside from their kisses and handholding. And even though Yifan was his boyfriend, Yifan was still a man older than him, and his professor on top of it. So to be sitting there, in Yifan’s apartment, digging the heels of his palms down into Yifan’s spine, well, it was definitely a new experience.

But Junmyeon didn’t have much time to think about the awkwardness of the situation, because the second he pressed down with force against Yifan’s upper back, the most sickening series of cracking noises he had ever heard in his life suddenly sounded from the man’s spine.

Yifan released a weak sound then akin to a whimper, and, thinking he had hurt him, Junmyeon instantly froze, hands still resting on Yifan’s back. “Yifan? Yifan, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Yifan replied, voice muffled by the fabric of the pillow. “I’m good.”

“It doesn’t hurt?” Junmyeon asked worriedly. “It sounded like I just broke your back.”

“No, doesn’t hurt,” Yifan murmured in response, lying perfectly still. “I’ll tell you if it does.”

Hesitating for a second, Junmyeon at last continued. Yifan was quiet, occasionally releasing a soft sigh when something in his back cracked again. And for Junmyeon, it was no longer any surprise that Yifan had back pain. The man’s upper back was horribly rigid from stress, and as Junmyeon slowly made it farther down Yifan’s spine, he could tell something was bothering him.

“Ah—Ah, careful,” Yifan complained, shifting slightly as Junmyeon’s hands pressed down on his lower back. “It always hurts there so it’s sensitive. You have to be gentler.”

“Alright,” Junmyeon agreed, putting less force into his hands than earlier. He tried not to press in as deep either, knowing that if he pressed too hard into the muscles when Yifan was already in pain, he could make it even worse. “Yifan? When did your back begin to hurt?”

“I don’t remember. Five years ago, I think?” Yifan mumbled in response, rolling his shoulders in a shrug the best he could. “It didn’t hurt much then. It feels like it gets worse every year.”

Junmyeon already knew what had caused the pain, but he wanted to hear it from Yifan, not some online article. “Did something happen to you?”

Yifan was silent for a long moment, and at first, Junmyeon didn’t think he was going to even get a response, before Yifan at last sighed into the pillow. “I was in an accident. I was on my motorcycle and a car hit me. My body hasn’t felt the same since then.”

Junmyeon bit down on his lower lip. “It hasn’t?”

“No. Like I said, my back began to hurt after that. It’s only gotten worse since then,” Yifan admitted quietly. “I’m sure my routine doesn’t help much, considering I’m always standing or sitting on a stool with no back support. Thankfully, it’s mostly just the back pain. Some things got broken back then but they healed nicely, so I don’t have to deal with pain from that too.”

“Things?” Junmyeon asked. “Like your arm or…?”

“Close. Fractured my scapula so the doctors had me in a sling for a while. Broke an ankle and a couple ribs. And you already know about my back so there’s that,” Yifan said with a sigh. “I looked like a rotten banana, I swear, I was just covered in bruises and spots.”

Junmyeon hadn’t known about all that, so he swallowed, hands pausing in their movements. “Yifan… After you got hurt that badly, I’m surprised you still want to ride motorcycles at all.”

“Accidents happen. An accident could happen to me if I was driving a car. Sure, I’m more likely to get severely injured on a motorcycle than in a car, but I love riding. It actually makes me feel…more alive, I guess,” Yifan said. “Younger. Not like some old man.”

Junmyeon blinked, arching an eyebrow. “Yifan, you’re only thirty-one. That isn’t old at all.”

Yifan ignored him, suddenly tense under Junmyeon’s touch. Immediately, Junmyeon knew he had somehow struck a nerve. Something about this topic was bothering Yifan greatly, so Junmyeon desperately tried to wiggle out of the rut.

“Yifan… Listen, about your accident…” Junmyeon began hesitantly. “I’m sorry if I’m prying too deep, but… What _happened_? You were badly hurt; you’re lucky to be alive.”

“Well…” Yifan remained quiet for a moment before at last sighing into the pillow. “Like I said, it was an accident. It’s kind of blurry for me. But I remember it was dark…”

* * *

Yifan was twenty-six, standing in his office, and screaming into Luhan’s face. Although there were no windows inside of Yifan’s office, it was presently dark outside, nightfall having long ago enveloped the world around them.

“I don’t need you to keep coming in here to tell me what to do!” Yifan yelled. “I have work to get done, so if you could just leave me alone so I can work, that would be great!”

“I’m telling you what to do because I’m worried about you! Look, Kris, I get it. You’re busy. _All_ professors are busy. I get that you want to catch up on grading and make some dents in your own art but this isn’t healthy. You’ve fallen asleep in your office two nights in a row and just _slept_ here. That isn’t good for you,” Luhan fussed, trying to talk some sense into his lifelong friend. “You’re crumbling. You aren’t taking good enough care of yourself, and it’s worrying me. So if you think I’m nagging, then fine, I’ll keep nagging until you listen to me, because like I said, you aren’t taking care of your body!”

“Well I don’t want you to keep coming in here nagging me every day! If you would shut up and let me work I’d actually get something done!” Yifan hollered, losing his temper to stress and sleepless nights. “I’m an art professor, Luhan! I have more to do than to just spit stuff up about people who are already dead like you do!”

“If _you_ would shut up and listen to me and just take care of yourself then I wouldn’t keep coming in here every night to nag at you!” Luhan shouted. “How many times is it going to take for me to finally get through that thick skull of yours?!”

“Regardless of how many times it’ll take, you’ll never make it that far regardless,” Yifan snapped, eyes cold, “so just fuck _off_ , Luhan, and let me work.”

Luhan was silent briefly as Yifan’s words sank in, and instantly, hurt shone in his eyes. Losing his own temper now, he balled up one hand into a tight fist and rammed it right into Yifan’s breastbone. “You know what?! Fine! You want me to fuck off, then _fine_ , I will! Let’s see how long you make it without me! It’s not like you have any other friends to support you!”

The history professor turned away and stormed across the room. As he made it to the doorway of Yifan’s office, he turned, eyes glowing with anger.

“I hope something happens to you,” Luhan snarled, clutching the doorknob in a death grip. “I hope something happens to you and finally makes you realize how much of an ignorant dick you’re being right now. I hope, more than anything else, that something so bad happens to you, that it makes you regret every bit of this.”

Luhan slammed the door shut behind him.

* * *

Yifan was twenty-six, riding his motorcycle, and presently hating his best friend more than anyone else in the entire world. Who did Luhan think he was, anyway? The guy’s attitude was really starting to grate on Yifan’s nerves. Luhan always acted like he knew everything, and Yifan hated it. Luhan knew nothing. Yifan had to work harder than Luhan, whether he liked it or not. He was busier than Luhan, more stressed, more overloaded. It wasn’t like Luhan understood anyway. Even when they were younger, Luhan had always been on a different level than him. Luhan never had to struggle like he did.

Some days, he really detested Luhan, and today was one of those days.

Aggravated, Yifan adjusted his weight slightly on the bike, leaning forward a little more as he clutched the throttle in his hand. It was dark. Underneath his helmet, Yifan’s pupils were enlarged, struggling to let in more light. All he could see was the glow of his motorcycle headlight, reflecting off the pavement.

It was past eleven at night. The streets were quiet. Yifan could hear the muffled noise of wind whipping past him as he rode. His eyelids were getting a little heavy, and Yifan could not wait to crawl into his bed and go to sleep. He had been staying on campus lately, sleeping in his office chair, and it made his back hurt when he did that.

Yifan had passed through the intersection hundreds of times. He went through it on his way to work, and back through it again on his way home. It was less busy now that it was late at night, nothing more than two other cars around him. The light was green and the throttle was in his hand and—

There was suddenly light coming from beside him, and Yifan’s head whipped sideways, eyes wide as he realized too late as to what was happening.

There was not enough time for him to react.

* * *

Yifan was twenty-six, lying on the pavement, and he couldn’t breathe. The pain was unbearable. White-hot, excruciating pain, and Yifan was desperately gasping for air, feeling like he was suffocating because the _pain_ wouldn’t let any oxygen stay in his lungs. Breathing hurt. He needed air but it hurt to breathe, everything hurt, _it hurt so bad—_

There were garbled voices in his ears and faces he did not know hovering over him.

_“Sir, can you hear me?” “Someone call an ambulance—“ “Don’t touch him, he’s hurt, you’ll make it worse if you move him!” “Sir, keep your eyes open, alright? Come on, don’t pass out on us now.”_

Yifan couldn’t breathe and he had never felt so much pain in his entire life.

His mind was spinning. Everything was suddenly a blur. The last thing Yifan remembered were headlights, shining right in his face, and then next—Pain. The screeching of tires. Shattering glass. The crunch of framework. The sound of something cracking inside of him as he hit the pavement, literally _bouncing_ twice against the unforgiving ground beneath him before he wound up in a heap in the middle of the road.

He lost consciousness.

* * *

Yifan was twenty-six, numb, and he didn’t know where he was. It was white. Everything around him was white and for a moment, Yifan, hazily, wondered if he was dead. Perhaps he was in the afterlife now.

But no, that wasn’t it. He could hear a rhythmic beeping in his ears. There were white sheets beneath him. There was something clipped around his finger and a needle buried underneath his skin.

He was alive. A hospital. Yes, it must have been a hospital. Right? Yifan closed his eyes and tried to breathe. It was as if no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t breathe deep enough. His body was heavy. Sluggish. Numb. Yifan could not feel anything at all.

He fell asleep.

When he woke, he was in the exact same spot, garbled voices in his ears. He felt awful. Before he even managed to open his eyes, Yifan let out the most pathetic moan of his life.

And then, there were suddenly arms caged around him, squeezing him tightly. A hug. Someone was _hugging_ him. When was the last time someone hugged him? Yifan could not remember. He couldn’t remember anything right now. But he recognized those arms, somehow or another.

“Luhan?” he croaked, voice hoarse, eyes rolling back in his head as he struggled to stay awake. “What happened…?”

“There was an accident,” Luhan said, and, even though he was severely disoriented, Yifan could see the tears running down his friend’s face. “Kris, I’m sorry. I’m so, _so_ sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean what I said, I—“

There was an accident? Yifan couldn’t remember, not right now. His entire body was numbed, pumped full of morphine, and Yifan was so, so tired that he didn’t hear a single word the doctor was trying to say to him.

Yifan was starting to doze once more, just barely able to register Luhan’s voice in his ear.

_“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Luhan was hiccupping, round tears dripping down his cheeks. His arms were practically choking him, wrapped like a noose around Yifan’s neck as he cried, ignoring the hands trying to pull him away and torrent of comments telling him he needed to let go. Luhan looked awfully tiny through Yifan’s blurred vision as the history professor leaned against the edge of his hospital bed to hold himself up on his own two legs. “God, Kris, I’m so glad you’re okay.”_

Yifan fell asleep once more, succumbing to the drugs that filled his veins, and made him feel so numb.

* * *

Junmyeon was speechless for what seemed like an eternity.

“Yifan… I’m so glad that you survived that,” he at last said softly, his eyebrows upturned with worry. “That could have ended so much worse. I mean, granted, you do have some back pain now, but things could have ended horribly.”

“You’re right. I could be in a wheelchair or paralyzed,” Yifan mumbled, seeming oddly distant all of a sudden, “or, ya know, dead.”

A chill ran down Junmyeon’s spine. “I’m glad none of that happened to you.”

“You’re one of the few,” Yifan told him, bitterness lining his voice. “It’s incredible, in a way, that you can survive something like that and wonder if that was for the best.”

Junmyeon blinked, not seeming to understand. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Junmyeon, I’m glad it didn’t kill me. Or that anything awful happened to me. I’m thankful for that,” Yifan replied softly. “I thought people would be like you and Luhan, that they would be relieved that I was okay. I was wrong to assume that.”

“Why wouldn’t people be relieved?” Junmyeon asked, confused. “You’re lucky to be alive. What isn’t there to be relieved about?”

“Ask your classmates if you want to know so badly,” Yifan snapped, anger and hurt lining his quiet voice. “I want you to imagine a scenario, Junmyeon, and tell me how it makes you feel. Imagine that you’re struck by a car that ran a red light, driven by someone who was speeding and drunk, and to get hurt so severely from it that you nearly die. Now imagine dozens of people at the very place you working saying they wish it _had_ killed you.”

Junmyeon’s throat closed up, and he couldn’t speak, only able to witness how Yifan clenched the pillow into his fingers.

“I’m a human being too, Junmyeon. I have feelings too. I’m a person too,” Yifan gritted out from between clenched teeth. His voice was wet, and Junmyeon was thankful that he could not see the man’s face. “But the way people talked, and still do, about me, makes you wonder if I’m even fucking human at all. It’s incredible, really, to hear so many people say it’s too bad you aren’t dead.”

Junmyeon didn’t know what to say to that. What _could_ he possibly say to that? He felt suddenly nauseated, and in that moment, Junmyeon thought back to the photographs he had seen online. He thought about that single picture he had seen of Yifan, standing next to his painting, badly injured, and scowling for the first time.

Junmyeon felt his heart sink to the soles of his feet.

* * *

They were cuddling on Yifan’s couch. Junmyeon was curled up against him, head tucked beneath Yifan’s chin, and resting against the man’s chest. He could hear Yifan’s pulse, strong and steady, echoing from inside of his ribcage. Yifan’s arms were warm, wonderfully so, wrapped loosely around him.

Things had been a little bit of a blur from before. Desperate to rid the air of the tension, Junmyeon changed the topic the best he could, but that was a mighty task after such a heavy discussion had been at hand. He finished massaging Yifan’s back for him, and helped the professor to his feet.

He couldn’t help but notice how Yifan’s eyes seemed different from earlier when Junmyeon first came over to visit.

Yifan gave him a miniature tour of his apartment after that. A kitchen with a bar top, a single bathroom, and some potted plants on his balcony. Yifan had one bedroom and another room that was _supposed_ to be a bedroom, but Yifan instead used it as a studio. That had definitely been a breathtaking sight. Junmyeon had never before seen so many art supplies in his life. There were shelves full of art-related books, stacks upon stacks of various papers and bottles of paint, a rainbow of markers, pens, and brushes. Yifan had an easel, canvas, and a stool set up as well, a small table set up nearby to hold his cup of water and his current paints.

On the canvas was the painting Yifan had sent him a picture of before, complete with the waterfall and greenery of a jungle.

They were watching a movie together now. Yifan had ordered pizza for the two of them and the empty box was sitting on his coffee table. Tucked into each other’s warm embrace, the pair continued to watch the movie in silence, cuddled together and merely basking in each other’s company.

Yifan suddenly craned his head down and pecked him atop of the head. “I’m glad you came to see me.”

Turning his attention away from the movie, Junmyeon swiveled around the best he could so that he could stare up at Yifan. He gave the male a cheeky grin. “I’m glad too. I would’ve been upset if I didn’t get to see you this weekend, whether it was because of a back injury or not.”

“It doesn’t hurt very much after your massage, to be honest,” Yifan said, swooping his head down once more and stealing a kiss from Junmyeon. “Fashion major as a first choice, and perhaps physical therapist as a second?”

“Oh, no, no, I don’t think I’d be able to pull that off very well,” Junmyeon combated, wiggling a bit so that he could sit up. Yifan slackened his hold around him, letting Junmyeon turn around so that they could face one another. “The fashion thing does sound fun though. I’ll probably give that a go.”

Yifan chuckled softly and, once again, leaned down to give him a small kiss. “You’d be excellent at it.”

“Why do you keep kissing me?” Junmyeon whined, craning his head backwards when Yifan tried to steal another kiss from him. Yifan, looking unimpressed, merely pursed his lips together. “Aren’t we supposed to be watching the movie?”

“Kissing you is much more fun,” Yifan teased, and Junmyeon let out an unflattering squawk as Yifan caged his arms about his waist before tugging him upwards so that Junmyeon was sitting on his lap. His face was instantly burning, and as if to rub more salt in the wound, Yifan was actually grinning at him in amusement. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t manhandle me like that,” Junmyeon complained, perched in Yifan’s lap. Cheeks flushed and unsure of what to do with his hands, he let them rest on Yifan’s chest, not bothering to fight back as Yifan tilted his head upwards to kiss him again. “I don’t like being manhandled.”

“Grow taller and you won’t be so easy to manhandle,” Yifan teased against his mouth, letting out a whiny ‘ouch’ when Junmyeon pinched him on the shoulder. “That hurt.”

“Don’t be a drama queen,” Junmyeon told him, huffing. “And don’t insult me. I’m plenty tall.”

“You’re not tall, Junmyeon, but nice try. It’s okay. I like my boyfriends tiny,” Yifan teased.

“Stop being mean to me,” Junmyeon whined, pushing his lips together in a prominent pout, “or I’ll pinch you again. But harder this time.”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Yifan replied teasingly, already craning his head upwards for another kiss. “I’m sure some kisses will get you to forgive me.”

“You’re such a sap,” Junmyeon told him, but he was grinning anyway. He welcomed Yifan’s next kiss without a fight, and Junmyeon fell right in, drowning in emotion as he slowly let his fingers slide upward and thread through Yifan’s hair.

The movie was officially forgotten behind them.

Kissing Yifan was so different from any kisses he had before and Junmyeon loved it. He loved the feeling of Yifan’s lips pressing against his own, the feeling of skin against skin. He had never been so close to Yifan before until now, and he could feel the warmth radiating out of Yifan’s body as they squished themselves together, Junmyeon still perched in the older man’s lap. As Junmyeon’s fingers remained in Yifan’s short locks of black hair, Yifan’s own hands came to absently rest on Junmyeon’s hipbones, tugging him closer as the two of them continued to make out there on Yifan’s couch.

Junmyeon wasn’t sure how long they kissed. He lost himself in the moment. Time was no longer a concept for Junmyeon, just like how it had been when they shared kisses under the stars. It was like time froze between the two of them whenever they shared a moment like this, and Junmyeon loved every minute of it, eyes closed and breathing soft and steady as Yifan kissed him.

That was until something changed.

A particularly rough kiss pressed against his lips made Junmyeon gasp in surprise, fingers fumbling and accidentally tugging on the fistfuls of Yifan’s black hair that he was clutching.

Yifan suddenly _moaned_ against his mouth, the two of them still locked together in a mess of kisses. Junmyeon, shrouded in all of his innocence, nearly yanked away just so that he could apologize, thinking that he had accidentally hurt the older man. But it slowly began to dawn on him that it was not a signal of pain; it was a sign of pleasure. Yifan _enjoyed_ Junmyeon yanking him by the hair.

Everything was happening far too quickly, racing past as if his life was on fast forward. Yifan’s breathing rate was changing, growing faster and heavier, sucking down rough gasps of air when their kisses broke apart, only for Yifan to crush the two of them back together all over again. He could feel Yifan’s hands wandering, leaving their spot on Junmyeon’s hips to instead slide inward, tapered fingers crawling beneath his shirt, warm palms tracing the smooth skin of Junmyeon’s stomach.

His mind was on overdrive and, uncomfortable, Junmyeon was about to interrupt their session of kisses to tell Yifan to slow down. He paused, however, as he could suddenly feel something pressing against his upper thigh.

Yifan had given his mouth a break and was occupying his time by peppering kisses down the side of Junmyeon’s neck. It gave Junmyeon just enough leeway so that he could glance downward to see what was touching him.

Instantly, the color drained from his cheeks, because there was a _bulge_ protruding against the front of Yifan’s pants, digging into Junmyeon’s leg with absolutely no mercy.

_Oh my god._

“Yifan—Yifan, wait,” Junmyeon spluttered, nervousness lining his voice. Yifan didn’t seem to even be paying any attention at this point, panting against Junmyeon’s neck in between kisses and teasing nips.  Still trapped beneath Junmyeon’s weight, as the younger male was still straddling his lap, Yifan’s hips began to roll, desperate for even the slightest bit of friction. Without a care in the world, Yifan began to grind against him, rubbing the swell between his legs against Junmyeon’s crotch as hard as he could. And Junmyeon _panicked._

“Yifan, _wait!”_

He grabbed Yifan by the shoulders, nails digging in violently and pricking the man’s skin through the fabric of his thin t-shirt. Junmyeon pushed as hard as he could, shoving Yifan away from him. Yifan finally seemed to understand that something was wrong, pausing in his conquest to tip his head backwards so that he could get a good look at Junmyeon’s face.

“W-Wait… Please,” Junmyeon said weakly. His hands were trembling as they remained perched on Yifan’s shoulders. He had shifted the lower half of his body backwards in an attempt of putting some distance between his hips and Yifan’s. There were tears filling up his eyes, glistening as they threatened to spill over. “ _Please,_ I-I… I’m not…”

Releasing a weak sob, a few tears already began to break loose, dripping down Junmyeon’s cheeks and onto the neckline of his shirt.

Immediately, something clicked in Yifan’s head as he understood that something was very wrong.

Things were a blur from there. Junmyeon did not register the fact that Yifan was helping him off his lap, and it didn’t quite click that he was suddenly sitting on the couch instead of Yifan’s thighs. One of Yifan’s hands was resting on his back, rubbing in concerned little circles as Junmyeon struggled to stop crying. Shaking, he let out a hiccup as he desperately wiped his face with his palms, trying his absolute hardest to dry his tears.

“Junmyeon,” Yifan murmured, his voice gentle and worried. “Junmyeon, please, look at me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I got caught up in the moment. Please talk to me; I don’t want you to cry like this…”

Junmyeon hiccupped again, still trying to dry his tears. “I’m s-sorry.”

“For what? Junmyeon, you have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who should be telling you I’m sorry; I took it too far,” Yifan said softly, his brow creasing with a concerned frown. “You and I haven’t been dating long. I should have known better.”

Junmyeon’s lower lip was wobbling as he strained to keep himself composed. “I’m just… I-I’m not ready yet, I…”

“Junmyeon, I _get_ it. It’s okay, please calm down. I’m not angry at you. I’m just really worried,” Yifan continued, hand still resting on the younger male’s back. “Did I scare you that badly? You’re still crying. I know that you’re shy, but…”

“It’s not you, it’s me,” Junmyeon babbled quietly, eyes reddened and throat bobbing. He swallowed, blinking rapidly and refusing to look Yifan in the eye. “It’s just… I-I’m not ready.”

_“What did you expect?” one of his coworkers drawled. “He’s your boyfriend and you won’t sleep with him. Of course he’s gonna start ogling other people. It’s not like you’re gonna put out for him.”_

_“What do you mean you’re not ready? You’ve been dating for an eternity.” A long sigh. “I know you’re shy but this is ridiculous.”_

_“For Christ’s sake, you’re such a prude. It’s just sex, Junmyeon! Is that too much to ask for?” Two strong hands planting on each side of his face. “I bet you really do want me to fuck you and you’re just too much of a bitch to ask for it. Just give it up. I know you’re not nearly as innocent as you pretend to be.”_

He could feel the tears dripping down his face.

“Who do you take me for?” Yifan asked rhetorically, expression serious now, eyebrows knitted together into a tight line. “Junmyeon, I’m not an idiot. Something else has happened to you. It’s more than you not being ready. Isn’t it?”

“No, I… Um. T-That’s most of it,” Junmyeon rambled, feeling Yifan continuing to rub calming circles over the expanse of his back. He felt so embarrassed right now that he just wanted to disappear. It was bad enough that he had panicked when Yifan started grinding on him, but it was even worse to be sitting here crying like a baby on Yifan’s couch while the professor tried to get him to explain what was wrong. “I-I just don’t want to rush…”

“You completely panicked, Junmyeon. There’s something else,” Yifan said softly. His voice was not forcing in the slightest, only filled with concern. “I’m not going to judge you, Junmyeon. I just want to know so that I don’t have to see you break down like this a second time.”

“It’s me. It’s not you, it’s me.” Junmyeon sucked in a deep breath. “Yifan, listen, I… I’ve just… I’ve never done this sort of thing before, okay?”

Yifan blinked, eyebrows arching in surprise. “You’re a virgin?”

“Yes. I… I’ve never done anything like this before. At all. Ever. And I know it sounds dumb because I’m twenty years old and I’ve been in relationships before but I just… I haven’t felt ready,” Junmyeon admitted softly, bloodshot eyes staring down at his hands as he clenched them together in his lap. “I don’t want to rush it. I want it to be special. But in the past, I… I guess the people around me didn’t feel the same way as I did.”

Yifan’s expression softened. “Junmyeon, it’s obvious that you’re shy. That’s part of this, I’m sure. But either way, there isn’t anything wrong with you wanting to take it slow.”

“It feels wrong. It used to, and it still does. My exes would get so angry with me when I kept telling them I didn’t want to do it yet. And that hurt a lot, because… What about me, you know? I was always the bad guy. And eventually… When my exes started flirting with other people and I was upset, still staying with them, it was my fault. Apparently it was okay for them to hit on other boys and make advances on them even though they were still dating _me_ , just because I wasn’t letting them sleep with me,” Junmyeon admitted quietly. “It was always my fault. I felt so cheated when my ex-boyfriends broke up with me, Yifan. I put so much of my heart and time into those relationships and they both just threw them away because I wouldn’t take my pants off. Is that all I was to them? Just some guy who wouldn’t put out so they threw me away?”

Yifan frowned worriedly. “Junmyeon—“

“It wasn’t fair to me and yet I just let them do it. I dated my last boyfriend for eight months and he just threw me away like I meant nothing,” Junmyeon continued, tears prickling his eyes. He hadn’t told anyone this much information before, and now that he had started, he just couldn’t stop. “Why was he the one who got to break up with me? How is that fair? I should’ve been the one to break up with him after what he did! How is it fair that he’s the one who kept telling me that I was just a prude being overdramatic and that I _obviously_ want it and— _God_ , how is it fair that he tried to force me and then dumped me after I beat the crap out of him? I should’ve been the one to dump _him_ after I nearly knocked him out!”

Yifan was quiet for a long moment, just letting Junmyeon rant. It was obvious that this was something Junmyeon had been holding deep inside for a long time, and Yifan wanted for him to let it out, one way or another. So he just sat back and let Junmyeon have his outburst, borderline yelling the entire time, until at last he ran out of steam. Huffing and puffing with tears shining in his eyes, Junmyeon glared at Yifan’s carpeted floor.

Once he was sure that the storm had at last calmed, Yifan spoke up once more. “Junmyeon. I want you to listen to me very carefully. Regardless of what has happened in the past, it’s done. Whether you want my opinion or not: your ex-boyfriends were shit. That’s it. Done. They wanted to sleep with you and it’s obvious you weren’t comfortable enough around them to go that far. And considering that you never had a French-kiss until I gave you one, it sounds like they didn’t give a fuck about you, just about what they wanted.”

Junmyeon just nodded, seeming unsure of how to respond.

“But again, the past is past. You aren’t with them anymore. You have me now. And Junmyeon, look. I know tonight I was pretty stupid and jumped the gun way too fast. I got caught up in the moment. But either way, if you don’t want to go that far, then we won’t. A relationship is a two-way street, Junmyeon, and even if I want something, that doesn’t mean I’m entitled to it.” Yifan furrowed his eyebrows. “I’ll be honest with you. I find you very attractive, Junmyeon. You’re extremely beautiful. But you have limitations and desires of your own and those are just as valid as mine. You aren’t comfortable enough around me – or with our relationship – to want to sleep with me yet, then that’s fine. We haven’t been dating long anyway and it would probably make things weird between us at this point in time. I don’t want you to feel like you need to rush into things just to try to satisfy me. What you want is just as important, Junmyeon, and it’s _your_ body. So if you aren’t ready, then you just aren’t ready. I know I come off as pretty damn impatient, especially in class, but trust me. Don’t be afraid to tell me that I need to slow down.”

Junmyeon swallowed, voice hesitant. “You’re… You’re sure?”

“What do you mean ‘you’re sure’? Yes, Junmyeon, I’m positive that I want you tell me if I’m going too fast and I want you to know that your own wants and needs are valid,” Yifan repeated, a soft huff leaving his lips as he patted Junmyeon on the back. “Don’t worry so much. You really need to stand up for yourself better and stop overthinking everything.”

“It’s a bad habit,” Junmyeon admitted, unconsciously leaning towards Yifan. The strong arm that wrapped about his upper back felt oddly comforting.

“Bad habits are hard to break.” Junmyeon felt his cheeks warm as Yifan leaned over, planting a soft kiss against his temple. “But I’m more patient than you think I am. Maybe one of these days I’ll get to see you grow a stronger backbone.”

Junmyeon merely sighed and leaned his head against Yifan’s shoulder. “Maybe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 30 Oct 2016


	17. Material

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ MATERIAL ]_
> 
> _an element or substance out of which something can be made or composed_

Junmyeon coming to visit him was one of Yifan’s favorite things. Sure, they saw each other three times during the week, but it wasn’t like either of them could interact the way they desired to. Yifan knew they had to maintain a façade of being nothing beyond professor and student when they were in class. He had to keep his distance then. He couldn’t allow himself to get too close or too touchy or too personal; it would only set off red flags that would put both of them in danger.

He got to see Junmyeon on the weekends and it was then that their masks began to fall off, but it just wasn’t enough. There had been numerous instances so far where Yifan had to force himself to stay away from Junmyeon during lecture. It was tough to keep his head on straight and to maintain his persona of a teacher and nothing more, especially when Junmyeon was there, tempting him with those pretty smiles and glittering eyes and ginger mannerisms.

It was one reason why Yifan loved it when Junmyeon came to visit him in his office. Behind the wooden door that remained firmly shut, there were no such things as limitations. Yifan could kiss Junmyeon as much as he wanted and no one could say a damn thing about it.

Then again, he was sure that if someone ever did see them, they would surely comment more on the borderline risqué position they were in, rather than the fact they were kissing.

Junmyeon tasted sweeter than last time. There was the taste of chocolate – the same flavor as the basket of chocolates on his desk – on his tongue as Yifan licked his way inside of his mouth, humming low in his throat as his hands rested on Junmyeon’s thighs. He could feel Junmyeon’s small fingers threading through his hair, pads of his fingertips pressed against the back of his head. After a moment, Junmyeon tried to pull away, and Yifan let him, reluctantly scooting back and basking in satisfaction as Junmyeon panted for air, knowing _he_ was the one to take Junmyeon’s breath away like that.

“You’re so greedy today,” Junmyeon commented, lips pink and slick and his whispering voice cracking partially through the sentence. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I missed kissing you,” Yifan replied, his voice low, a baritone rumble in the back of his throat. He felt Junmyeon’s fingers slide downward until they were resting on the back of his neck. “I missed _you.”_

“You just saw me yesterday in class,” Junmyeon murmured, frowning a little. “And I was just out with you last weekend. It’s only Tuesday, you big diva.”

“Seeing you and being with you are two very different things,” Yifan argued, his voice husky and eyes narrowed. “Seeing you class is not the same as getting to be with you, touch you, kiss you. I can barely look at you during lecture. It would be too obvious if I stared at you for too long or stole too many glances at you. Do you know how hard that is for me? I can’t touch you, let alone stare at you, and that’s really damn unfair considering how cute you are.”

Junmyeon’s face turned a rather interesting shade of pink. “I am _not_ cute.”

“Tch. I wish you could see what I saw when we’re in class. Your autumn wardrobe makes you look incredible,” Yifan commented, and Junmyeon shifted his weight uncertainly atop of the man’s desk, unable to help but flush a little deeper at the praise. “I’m not sure how you do it, but you look good in literally anything you wear. I can’t believe you didn’t think about becoming a fashion major until I said something about it.”

Junmyeon lowered his gaze in embarrassment. “You give me way too much credit.”

“I don’t give you enough. I mean it. You look beautiful in everything,” Yifan murmured, hands resting on Junmyeon’s knees as he stared up at the younger male. “I wish you could see how beautiful you are…even now.”

“I’m wearing a turtleneck,” Junmyeon deadpanned, cheeks still framed with color as he frowned a little.

“But you pull it off so well,” Yifan drawled, corner of his mouth twitching in entertainment. It was true in his eyes; despite the fact that Junmyeon was wearing nothing more than a loose black turtleneck and dark-washed jeans and black boots, he looked stunning. “I have such a gorgeous boyfriend.”

“Well you cut it out?! You’re embarrassing me,” Junmyeon whined, fingers still resting on the back of Yifan’s neck, laced together.

“How can I? It’s true. And you’re fun to tease,” Yifan replied playfully, letting out an amused snort when Junmyeon tugged on one of his ears in an attempt of shutting him up. “Maybe I’ll be quiet if you give me something to keep me busy.”

Junmyeon’s eyes narrowed. “Was this a gimmick of yours just to get kisses out of me?”

“Maybe.” Yifan forced his lower lip out about an inch, giving Junmyeon his best attempt of puppy dog eyes. Judging by Junmyeon’s bit of a scowl, he wasn’t having it. “Can’t I get at least one more?”

“No ‘at least’ here; you’re getting one,” Junmyeon grumbled. With Junmyeon perched atop of the desk, legs dangling over the edge as Yifan remained sitting in a chair, Junmyeon had no choice but to lean downwards so that they could kiss. His hands were still lingering on the back of Yifan’s neck as he closed the gap between them. “ _Just_ one.”

Yifan’s eyes were hooded. “That’s better than none.”

He loved kissing Junmyeon. Yifan hummed softly in the bottom of his throat in pleasure as their lips molded into one, his hands still perched on Junmyeon’s knees as Junmyeon’s small fingers pressed against the back of his neck. But just like that, it was over, and Yifan allowed his eyes to flutter back open when Junmyeon broke the kiss between them.

“No more. You’ve been spoiled enough today,” Junmyeon said softly, his hands wandering, coming to cup Yifan’s head gently in his palms. “And I have to get going really soon.”

“I wish you could stay longer,” Yifan admitted, voice quiet but shameless.

“You would get absolutely nothing accomplished workwise and neither would I,” Junmyeon pointed out.

Yifan sighed, body lax as he let his head comfortably rest in Junmyeon’s palms. “I’ll have to figure out something for us to do this weekend. I want to see you again.”

“I think you should be less worried about coming up with date ideas and instead be trying to get some sleep,” Junmyeon replied, his soft features hardening in a concerned frown. Yifan’s eyes instinctively fluttered shut as Junmyeon’s thumbs rose upwards, smoothing gingerly over the skin just below Yifan’s lower eyelids. “Your dark circles have gotten worse.”

“Between my back pain keeping me awake at night and staying up late trying to paint,” Yifan said, eyes closed as he unconsciously leaned into Junmyeon’s touch, “it shouldn’t come as a surprise anymore that I look tired. I _am_ tired.”

“You can change your habits, you know. I get that you’re a night owl but staying up late to do more work isn’t healthy. So that can change. Getting you into bed earlier would be a great start,” Junmyeon began with a scowl. “But of course your back is still a problem. Do medications not work on you? If they don’t, you could see a doctor for it. I’m sure they can help you.”

Yifan’s eyes shot open immediately. “I’m not going to the doctor, Junmyeon.”

“Why not?” Junmyeon asked, confusion painting his voice. He frowned, worried, and Yifan suddenly leaned back in seat, gently pushing Junmyeon’s hands away. “Yifan, a doctor could help you—“

“I _said_ I’m not going,” Yifan snapped, successfully interrupting him.

Junmyeon blinked in surprise at the man’s outburst before his frown grew a little deeper. “Why don’t you want to go? A doctor will help you, Yifan. You’ll feel better.”

“Because I don’t want to,” Yifan argued stubbornly, eyes shifting sideways to avoid looking directly at Junmyeon. “Now stop asking. I just don’t want to. Okay?”

Junmyeon knew better than that. He knew Yifan always had a reason behind his words and actions; he was not the type of person to try to brush things off and under the rug with a simplistic ‘because I said so’. There was definitely something that Yifan wasn’t telling him. Surely it wasn’t anything about the accident. Yifan didn’t have an issue with telling him the painful details of nearly dying in his motorcycle crash. Even if a doctor’s office would remind him of too much of that night, it couldn’t have bothered him _that_ much if he was still capable of talking about it so easily. And if Yifan’s aversion to doctors wasn’t because of the crash, then what was the reason?

But Junmyeon didn’t know how to ask such a question when he knew that Yifan would merely wave him away. It wasn’t like he had time anyway; he really needed to head off for his next lecture. And if he was to guess by the scowl that now resided on Yifan’s face, the professor was no longer in the mood to talk to him anyway. Junmyeon knew that he had struck a big nerve, but he wasn’t sure how.

Even when they shared a parting kiss, nothing more than a small peck on the mouth, a brief brush of skin against skin that lasted only seconds, Yifan seemed oddly distant all of a sudden. It was puzzling. It was worrying. And as Junmyeon stepped out of his office and into the hall, backpack clutched in his hands, a piece of him felt oddly guilty.

* * *

“See, if the cell is placed into a solution of higher concentration—“

_Crunch. Crunch. Crunch._

“—then the cell will begin—“

_Crunch. Crunch. Crunch._

“—uh, begin to—“

_Crunch. Crunch. Crunch._

“Oh for crying out _loud_! Give me those!” Junmyeon hissed, pausing in his attempts of explaining to instead yank the bag of potato chips out of his friend’s hand. “I can’t even hear myself think over your crunching, Jongdae!”

“Well excuse me for being hungry,” Jongdae whined, trying and failing to wrangle the bag back out of Junmyeon’s grip. “Give me back my chips!”

“No way! We’re supposed to be studying and I can’t focus on anything with you making all that noise,” Junmyeon argued, frowning as he roughly shook the bag of chips in retaliation. “You’re not even supposed to be eating in the library anyway. You’ll get them back when we’re done.”

“Wow, Junmyeon,” Yixing commented then from across the table, unable to stop himself from laughing. The confused and bewildered looks he received from the other students sitting at the nearby tables went unnoticed. “I didn’t know you had it in you to act like that.”

Junmyeon’s cheeks reddened. “I’m not trying to be mean. It’s just annoying when you’re trying to focus and get stuck listening to someone chew the entire time.”

“You’d better be nice to me,” Jongdae grumbled, managing at last to snatch his bag of chips away. Still, he gave Junmyeon a break, leaving the package untouched on the table. “I don’t _have_ to give you a party invitation, you know.”

“Party?” Junmyeon asked then, eyes blinking open wider. “What party?”

Jongdae’s forehead dimpled in puzzlement as he glanced across the table to give Yixing a stare. “You didn’t ask him yet if he wants to go?”

“Considering that I’m not going, and _your_ friends are the ones hosting, I didn’t think it was particularly in my place to say anything,” Yixing replied, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned back in his seat.  “No offense to you, Junmyeon. I just didn’t want to stick my nose where it didn’t belong.”

“None taken,” Junmyeon said before turning his attention back onto Jongdae, eyes bright with a hopeful smile forming on his lips. “Does this mean I get to go?”

“Actually, I was hoping you would want to. You and Sehun still aren’t talking to each other, right? Sehun is gonna be there. Maybe you guys could just talk it out over some drinks or something,” Jongdae said with a shrug of his shoulders. The corners of his mouth were curling. “And I can introduce you to some of my other friends. I think they’ll like you a lot. I’ve told one of them a lot about you; I’m sure he’ll be psyched once he knows you’re going.”

“You tell your friends about me?” Junmyeon asked in bewilderment, unable to top himself from turning a rather flattering shade of pink. “Who is your friend, anyway?”

“Well, of course I do. Especially when you kinda need to know _someone_ to get into the patty. Now you can say you know me, and it’ll all be fine.” Jongdae couldn’t hold out any longer and crammed a handful of chips into his mouth. “His name is Chanyeol. We met in an elective we were both taking to fill our gen eds for a physical fitness class. That was also when the two of us realized we both really _really_ suck at baseball.”

“Oh. Well, I wouldn’t mind meeting him. Making some new friends is always nice. And I guess if I’m lucky enough, Sehun will wanna talk to me,” Junmyeon said after a moment. “When is the party, anyway? Saturday?”

“Thursday,” Jongdae told him, and Junmyeon blinked nearly half a dozen times in confusion. It was Tuesday already and Junmyeon couldn’t fathom a party being hosted on a weekday. Jongdae must have noticed his confusion because he let out a small laugh. “You’ve never been to a ‘university age’ party yet, have you? A lot of people throw them on Thursdays. It’s called ‘Thirsty Thursday’ for a reason, ya know. But I think you’ll have a good time.”

“That’s…interesting. But I’ll give it a try. I haven’t been to a party on campus before,” Junmyeon admitted, feeling awfully out of place as he glanced over at Yixing. “How come you aren’t going?”

“Parties aren’t really my thing to begin with, to be honest. I have something going on in the dance department earlier that evening anyway,” Yixing explained, “so I’ll probably be too exhausted to even think about partying. But I hope you have fun.”

“I’m sure he will,” Jongdae said with a rather loud laugh as he gave Junmyeon a playful slap on the back. “It’ll be nice to meet some new people and just get away from things for a night.”

Not quite sure as to what he was getting himself into, Junmyeon merely smiled in reply.

* * *

By the time Thursday arrived, Junmyeon’s initial concerns about whether he should actually attend the party or not had officially faded. Growing up in a small town meant there were so no such things as large parties. Junmyeon had been to very few, and all of them were nothing more than social gatherings at best. Starting his life again in the big city meant new opportunities, and Junmyeon wanted to experience them.

Well, not to mention that he was desperately craving human interaction. The stress of school was always there, lingering quietly in the back of his head, but the slow trickle of loneliness into his heart was so much worse. Despite having a circle of friends, Junmyeon didn’t get to see everyone as much as he liked. They were all different majors than him so aside from the rare class or two, Junmyeon didn’t share any lectures with his friends. Everyone was always so busy and aside from dinner or the weekend, it wasn’t uncommon for Junmyeon not to see his friends at all. Since he and Sehun were still stuck in their stalemate – despite Junmyeon’s attempts of fixing things that were only ignored – the only person he had left to regularly talk to was Yifan.

Unfortunately Yifan was just too busy this week for him.

Tuesday came and went, and Wednesday was not much different. Junmyeon didn’t get to hang out in Yifan’s office unless it was a Tuesday or Thursday thanks to time conflicts with his other classes. As Yifan had told him time and time again, they couldn’t act how they wanted during lecture. Yifan had an aura of a professor to maintain and had to uphold his mask of being nothing more than a professional that remained detached from his students personally. They hardly looked at each other during class, let alone talked, due to the fear lingering deep down that it would somehow lead to their romance being discovered. It was a risk neither of them wanted to take.

So aside from those brief instances in Yifan’s office on Tuesdays and Thursdays and their dates on the weekends, their only form of communication was through text messages. Every now and again they would share a phone call, but that was a rare instance, since Junmyeon needed privacy for that and Yifan was not a fan of talking on the phone to begin with.

And although they normally texted each other like crazy, especially after a long day of classes, this week just wasn’t the same. At first Junmyeon was worried that Yifan was angry or upset with him after what had happened on Tuesday, regarding how defensive Yifan had grown when Junmyeon had brought up the need for the professor to go see a doctor for his back pain. But Yifan was quick to wave his worries away.

 _I’m just really busy this week. You know midterms are approaching so I have a lot to get done for classes_ , Yifan’s text message had read. _And I have artwork of my own I need to get done. I’m running out of time. I’m not mad, I promise. Sorry if I’ve been making you feel ignored; I promise I’ll make it up to you soon._

People were busy and Junmyeon didn’t want to disturb them, whether he was lonely or not. After Yifan had sent him that text Wednesday night, Junmyeon just sent him a simplistic _‘okay, good luck with your work :)’_ and didn’t say anything else. He had started to stop by Yifan’s office Thursday, like he always did, but when he poked his head inside, Yifan had his face buried in his paint tray and was painting away on his canvas like a madman. Junmyeon instead decided not to bother him and left without saying a word. Yifan had work to get done and Junmyeon did not want to get in the way.

And when Thursday night at last arrived, Junmyeon didn’t tell Yifan about his plans to go to the party. Yifan was surely still busy and Junmyeon didn’t want to distract him. Plus, he was certain that if he told Yifan what he was doing, the man would either worry about him or start lecturing him via text about staying on schedule and keeping up with his work and everything else. He would tell Yifan all about it on Friday. Surely the man would be up to speed on all his assignments and projects by then!

Junmyeon wasn’t quite sure what he had been expecting, but the atmosphere was making him a little uncomfortable. Unaccustomed to large amounts of people or loud music or parties in general, Junmyeon felt quite awkward inside the four walls of the fraternity house.

He checked his phone for what to have been the thirtieth time. No messages from Yifan. He had hoped, deep down, that the man would have texted him when he had a free moment to distract him from the unusual situation he was in, but apparently, Yifan was still busy. Junmyeon wanted to text him, but the worry of being a nuisance stopped him.

Junmyeon had been using Jongdae as a crutch so far, but currently, standing in the corner of the living room, Junmyeon was alone. Typically a social butterfly, it was a bit of an odd sight to see Junmyeon isolated in the corner, but he just felt so out of place and uncomfortable that he couldn’t bring himself to try to socialize with new people. He was caught between repeatedly checking his phone and looking up to see if Jongdae had come back yet. Maybe if he was lucky he would find Sehun here without anyone having to push the two of them together to make them talk.

It felt like an eternity before Jongdae reappeared, and Junmyeon had his face buried into his phone so he didn’t even notice the boy’s presence at first.

“Junmyeon,” a voice said then, a hand playfully slapping him on the arm. Junmyeon jumped, head shooting up to find Jongdae standing before him, along with a group of three boys Junmyeon had never seen before in his life. Junmyeon gulped nervously, trying to keep his eyes trained on Jongdae instead of the group of men surrounding him. “These are some friends of mine! By the way, I got you a drink.”

Junmyeon then glanced down to find Jongdae offering him a bright red plastic cup. Junmyeon may have grown up in a small town and may have been a bit sheltered, but he at least knew about this.

“Is that beer?” Junmyeon deadpanned, missing the looks of disbelief he was gaining from the strange boys as he continued to stare at Jongdae. Junmyeon shook his head. “Thanks, Jongdae, but I don’t drink.”

“What do you mean you don’t drink? It’s your first party! You gotta have at least one,” Jongdae whined, still holding the cup out for him to take. “You had to have at least had a beer before, right?”

“Not beer,” Junmyeon replied, eyebrows furrowing. “I’ve had wine… Not a whole lot though. Just shared some with my mom, but…”

“Aw, Jongdae, it’s cute! Your friend is a mama’s boy!” One of the boys with brown hair suddenly erupted into laughter. He was around Junmyeon’s size. “You can tell he’s a freshman. He’s still a baby that’s afraid to live a little.”

Junmyeon’s cheeks reddened a bit as he gave the stranger a look. “I’m not a baby. I’m twenty, but thanks.”

“Junmyeon, come on. It’s not that big of a deal,” Jongdae complained, still holding out the drink for him. “Just one, at least?”

“I already said no,” Junmyeon repeated, frowning.

“You never told us your friend was such a pussy, Jongdae,” one of the other boys commented, and although Junmyeon was embarrassed by the insult, his face didn’t turn red until the others began to laugh, all but the remaining male Junmyeon hadn’t heard speak yet. Shame immediately roared through his veins. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the fact that Jongdae wasn’t defending him made him feel even worse. “You shouldn’t have brought him here. He looks like the type to go snitch about us even having alcohol in the house.”

“I’m not a snitch,” Junmyeon said weakly, struggling to defend himself against the upperclassman. His pride and confidence was badly damaged at the moment. “And I’m not a pussy, either.”

“Yeah?” The kid asked, smirking down at him, and Junmyeon began to think that he had made a mistake. “Prove it, mama’s boy.”

Junmyeon hesitated for a long moment. Jongdae was staring at him, along with his three friends. The third boy that he hadn’t heard talk had his lips pursed into a thin line. The first that had teased him was grinning in amusement and the one that had insulted him had a scowl on his face. Junmyeon didn’t know these people at all, but Junmyeon was always one to treasure his image immensely. The fact that he had been insulted and teased without hesitation, and without a way to defend himself, definitely knocked his confidence down a couple pegs. And desperate for redemption, Junmyeon didn’t think about consequences as he all but snatched the red cup out of Jongdae’s hand.

He took one moment to stare down at the liquid inside the cup, able to hear the music echoing in his ears as his muscles tightened with newfound anxiety. Swallowing down his nervousness, Junmyeon took a deep breath before raising the cup to his lips, and taking a swig.

He instantly hated the taste. Junmyeon forced himself not to make a face, or lower the cup, knowing the others would only tease him more if he stopped. His mother had not raised a quitter, and Junmyeon squeezed his eyes shut as he forced himself to keep drinking it. Junmyeon did not mind the taste of wine, but the beer tasted horrendous, and desperate to get it over with, he choked it down as fast as he could.

It felt like an eternity before he finished it off, and Junmyeon coughed a few times as he tried to get some fresh air into his lungs as he lowered the cup.

“I asked if you wanted a drink, not if you wanted to stand there and chug it,” Jongdae fussed. “You okay?”

“He’s so cute,” the first boy cooed, reaching down to ruffle Junmyeon’s hair. “Baby’s first beer.”

“I’m not cute,” Junmyeon argued underneath pinched eyebrows. He tried to swat the boy’s hand away when the other male tried to pinch his cheeks. “Quit it! I’m not a kid!”

“Alright, alright, you guys stop picking on Junmyeon already,” Jongdae huffed in annoyance, reaching out with one hand to place some distance between the two. “Can’t you guys go wait somewhere else? We have a lot of catching up to do.”

That was thankfully enough to get two of the men to leave, the friendlier one offering Junmyeon a wave, and the other merely giving him a dirty look as he stalked off. Junmyeon was then left alone with Jongdae and the remaining stranger who towered over the two of them.

Jongdae groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Junmyeon, I’m sorry. They’ve both been drinking. You know people act differently when they’re buzzed.”

“It’s okay,” Junmyeon said automatically, even though deep down, he was still somewhat upset regarding how the two men had treated him. As usual, Junmyeon didn’t bother to try to stand up for himself, even after the event had blown over. He glanced quickly at the remaining boy. “Um. Who’s your friend?”

“Oh! Junmyeon, this is Chanyeol. This is the guy I was telling you about,” Jongdae explained, grinning widely for a moment as he gave Junmyeon a hefty smack on the back. “He’s really nice! And he’s been super excited to meet you, since I talk about you all the time. Trust me, he doesn’t bite, so you two have fun. I gotta run to watch over the two idiots.”

“Jongdae, wait, I—“ Junmyeon started, but Jongdae didn’t even give him a chance, already scurrying off and leaving Junmyeon standing there alone with the stranger.

His heart was racing with nerves.

“Jongdae can be really scatterbrained when he gets excited,” the man said then, and Junmyeon jumped, not having expected such a baritone voice to have come out of Chanyeol’s mouth. His lips were twisted to one side in a rather unamused expression. “Sorry he kinda ditched you. And I want to apologize for my friends, too. And since Jongdae didn’t introduce you properly… Kyuhyun was the one who kept cooing over you. And Kangin was, uh, the other one. I swear they aren’t normally like that.”

“I see. Um… You were the only one who didn’t laugh at me earlier,” Junmyeon mumbled, lowering his gaze. “I know this may sound silly, but that does mean a lot to me. So thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. There was nothing to laugh about. I just hate that they hurt your feelings.” Chanyeol nodded his head toward the living room of the house. “You wanna sit down? We can chat for a while, if you want. I don’t think Jongdae is coming back anytime soon and no offense, but you look like you’ve been keeping this corner rather warm…”

Junmyeon blushed at that. “Honestly, I don’t know anyone here. I guess it kinda freaked me out. Still is, a little bit.”

Chanyeol cracked a grin. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll keep you company for a bit. Just think of me as your adoptive parent for the moment.”

“Parent? Chanyeol, I’m twenty,” Junmyeon spluttered. “And not to sound rude, but I’m pretty sure I’m older than you.”

“You are, you are, but still. It’s like I’m your babysitter trying to keep an eye on you while your parents are out at the store or something,” Chanyeol laughed. The taller student placed a hand on Junmyeon’s upper back, pushing gently to get Junmyeon to walk as the two of them headed across the room, squeezing past other kids awkwardly. Chanyeol had to shout for Junmyeon to hear him, though Junmyeon hardly noticed with the large, warm hand lingering on his back. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Oh, you’re so kind,” Junmyeon said dryly as Chanyeol led him over to the couch. “I’m forever in your debt.”

Chanyeol laughed a lot, Junmyeon noticed. The boy just chuckled all over again at Junmyeon’s words, as if he was the funniest person in the entire world. It was a little endearing. Aside from Yifan, no one else thought he was entertaining.

Chanyeol left him alone for a moment and came back with two drinks, one for himself, and the other offered to Junmyeon. Junmyeon didn’t really want another beer but he didn’t object, taking the cup when prompted. He didn’t want to look weak or unmanly in front of his potentially new friend, especially with how he had been borderline ripped to shreds already. So instead he merely took the drink and mumbled his thanks to Chanyeol.

The atmosphere between them was a little awkward. Since they didn’t know each other at all, they discussed tiny and boring things at first. They started with their majors – Chanyeol apparently was majoring in music and played a variety of instruments – and worked outwards from there.

 “I’m not sure if Jongdae told you this already, but we met in a P.E. class. Been friends ever since. I’m not sure how close you guys are but he’s just as much of a knucklehead as I am; I guess that’s why we clicked,” Chanyeol explained half an hour later, shrugging his shoulders loosely. “I played football the past few semesters but took this semester off to save my knees and to try to buckle down more on school. Music comes easily to me, but other things…not so much. Especially math. I am the _worst_ at figuring out equations, especially if I don’t have a calculator.”

“Math isn’t actually that difficult,” Junmyeon said patiently. He was trying to keep up with Chanyeol’s drinking pace, and had finished nearly all of his second cup. “I’m not a genius, sure, but once you figure things out, all equations just are repeats of each other.”

“You sound like the kind of guy that overanalyzes certain games so that he always wins. Billiards. Bowling,” Chanyeol started, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “Beer pong.”

“Beer…pong?” Junmyeon started, blinking in confusion. “What is that?”

“You’ve never played before?” Chanyeol asked in bewilderment. “It’s a classic! Man, maybe Kyuhyun was onto something. You seem really… Well. Sheltered isn’t a nice word, but you get my point.”

Junmyeon’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “Like I said, I’ve never been to a party before. Well, not since I was going to birthday parties in elementary school. I’m from a small town; things are much different here than things are there.”

“I can teach you, if you wanna learn,” Chanyeol said almost a little too eagerly. Junmyeon found it a little strange – then again, what wasn’t strange about tonight – and agreed to the offer anyway. Chanyeol hopped up from the couch then, and Junmyeon followed suit. “I’ll go easy on you first round, okay?”

“That would be nice,” Junmyeon said with a small laugh. His nervousness from earlier in the evening was finally gone now that he had another person to use as a crutch. Maybe Chanyeol could introduce him to some of his friends. Maybe he would get to talk to some more people once they started playing this mysterious game that he had never heard of. Maybe he and Chanyeol would become good friends after all of this; after all, they were clicking rather well, despite only knowing each other for a short time. “You’ll teach me all the rules, right? No tricks?”

“No tricks,” Chanyeol chirped in response, and Junmyeon hardly registered the fact the boy had his hand lingering on his back again to lead him into another room. “But whether you’re good at math or not, this won’t be easy. I’m a pro at this game.”

“We’ll see,” Junmyeon replied with a laugh, letting Chanyeol lead him along. “I like a challenge.”

His phone vibrated in his pocket, but Junmyeon didn’t notice, too wrapped up with his new friend to pay the sensation any mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 13 Nov 2016


	18. Viscosity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ VISCOSITY ]_
> 
> _the thickness of a liquid. In painting, the viscosity of oil paints is altered by adding a binder (such as linseed oil) or a solvent (such as turpentine)_
> 
> A/N: Warning this chapter for attempted rape

“So, the entire structure of the game is to bounce the ball into one of the cups,” Chanyeol explained, pressing the small ball into Junmyeon’s outstretched hand. “Whenever you get the ball into the cup, your opponent has to drink the booze that’s in the cup. Pretty straightforward, yeah?”

“But what’s the point, exactly?” Junmyeon asked hesitantly, rolling the ping pong ball nervously between his fingers. “Get through as many cups as you can so that you get your opponent as drunk as possible?”

“It’s called beer pong for a reason, Junmyeon,” Chanyeol replied, pursing his lips. “It’s a drinking game.”

There was a bad inkling in Junmyeon’s stomach. He shook his head, trying to hand the ball back to Chanyeol. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t think I should play this.”

“You’re sure?” Chanyeol asked, forehead creasing as he frowned. When he nodded, Chanyeol gave him a roll of his eyes that Junmyeon definitely didn’t miss, and definitely didn’t like. “Sounds like the others haven’t been too far off on their characterization of you.”

Junmyeon swallowed. “What do you mean?”

“Drunk or not, my friends had a point about you earlier. You really are afraid to live, aren’t you? You’re a priss,” Chanyeol said harshly, and although the other was taller than him, that wasn’t the reason why Junmyeon suddenly felt so small. “I’ve even heard things about you from Jongdae. He always said how fun it is to be around you, but from the way I see it, maybe he lied to me.”

Desperate to prove himself, Junmyeon didn’t stop himself from blurting out his thoughts. “I’m not a priss! And fine, I guess I am kinda scared. I’m just… You know I haven’t done things like this before.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Chanyeol told him, a strange glint in his eyes that Junmyeon did not notice, as the boy was still too wrapped up in his newfound embarrassment and desire to please. Chanyeol’s hand was lingering on his back again. “After all, we’re friends, right? Just trust me.”

* * *

_Yifan (12:07 AM)  
Something is wrong._

_Luhan (12:12 AM)_  
Like you texting me at this hour and waking me up?  
Leave me alone. I’m asleep.

 _Yifan (12:14 AM)_  
I don’t care if you’re sleeping. Look.  
I think something happened to Junmyeon.

_Luhan (12:16 AM)  
Ok, I’ll bite. Something like what?_

_Yifan (12:19 AM)_  
Something bad. I’ve been trying to get a hold  
of him since 9:30 and he hasn’t answered.  
He always replies.

_Luhan (12:22 AM)  
He’s probably sleeping. Like you and I should be._

_Yifan (12:26 AM)_  
Even if he’s sleeping now, Junmyeon ALWAYS replies  
to me before he goes to bed, even if it’s just a damn  
smiley face. And 98% of the time, he TELLS me that he’s  
going to bed. I even called him earlier and he didn’t answer.

 _Luhan (12:30 AM)_  
You’re worrying too much, Kris.  
Just go to bed. He’ll reply in the morning.

 _Yifan (12:32 AM)_  
You know I don’t sleep to begin with but  
I definitely can’t sleep now. I’m worried about him.

 _Luhan (12:35 AM)_  
He’s 20 yrs old Kris. He’s an adult. Enrolled in a university.  
He’s fine. Quit worrying and go to sleep.  
I’m going back to bed. Bye.

Despite his friend’s words, there was a bad feeling in his stomach that Yifan just couldn’t shake.

* * *

The icepack was absolutely freezing in his hands.

“Chanyeoool,” Junmyeon whined, speech slurred as he readjusted his grip on the icepack. “It’s cold.”

“Of course it is,” Chanyeol replied bluntly, reaching over to wrangle the icepack out of Junmyeon’s grip. Junmyeon let out a rather pathetic whimpering noise as Chanyeol pressed the chilled object against his forehead. “It’s an icepack. It’s supposed to be cold.”

“I don’t like it,” Junmyeon complained, voice loud and speech somewhat garbled. He reached up with one hand and weakly pushed at Chanyeol’s own, trying to get the younger male to lower the icepack. “I don’t want you to use it on me anymore.”

“You wouldn’t need it if you had watched what you were doing,” Chanyeol pointed out, frowning as he easily pushed Junmyeon’s hand away and continued his work. After a moment – and ignoring Junmyeon’s whining the entire time – Chanyeol lowered the pack and prodded at the boy’s forehead with two fingers. He scowled, able to feel a lump forming beneath the skin.

Of all the outcomes in the world, Chanyeol hadn’t been expecting for their game of beer pong to end with Junmyeon smacking his head against the table. The first round had been neck and neck, but even so, Chanyeol had managed to get a few beers into Junmyeon’s system. And as the alcohol kicked in, Junmyeon’s reflexes slowly weakened. By the time they started their second game, Junmyeon’s ability to play had decreased immensely. And with Chanyeol actually having experience, both in terms of drinking and in drinking games, it wasn’t long before his shots had Junmyeon drinking constantly.

Junmyeon being drunk was no surprise to him, but the fact that Junmyeon had dropped the ball and bent down to get it, only to smack his face on the edge of the table, well, that had definitely been an event Chanyeol hadn’t been anticipating. Junmyeon had hit his forehead so hard that he had nearly knocked himself unconscious, so it was relieving to find that the only damage was a lump, and what was sure to be a nasty bruise later.

“Jongdae said you were clumsy, but I didn’t think you would be _this_ damn clumsy,” Chanyeol said then, having to shout so that Junmyeon could hear him. The two of them were sitting on the living room couch, huddled together near one of the armrests. “You must be drunker than I thought.”

“I’m not that drunk,” Junmyeon whined, although his appearance and mannerisms were betraying him. His speech was already growing difficult to decipher, and there was a flush beginning to appear on his cheeks. He huffed, again swatting at Chanyeol’s hand in an attempt of making him lower the icepack. “You need to quuuit. I don’t want it anymore. It’s too cold.”

“And _you_ need to hush and accept the fact that as swollen as your head is getting, ice is something you need right now,” Chanyeol argued, once more shoving Junmyeon’s hand away and back down towards the couch. “Knock it off, Junmyeon!”

“No, _you_ knock it off!” Junmyeon complained, once more swinging at Chanyeol’s hang, and this time, managed to make contact. He smacked the icepack out of the student’s grip, and Chanyeol glanced down in time to see it land roughly in his lap. Before he had a chance to reach down and grab it, Junmyeon beat him to it. Without hesitation, Junmyeon’s right hand surged out and dove right into Chanyeol’s lap, and _way_ too close to a rather personal spot between his legs. With a victorious cry, Junmyeon pulled away with the icepack in his hand.

As if to rub it in, Junmyeon held the icepack above his head, as if thinking it would then be out of Chanyeol’s reach. “It’s mine now and you can’t have it! I didn’t come to this party to have cold things put on my face!”

“Then what did you come to this party for?” Chanyeol spluttered, struggling to keep his composure intact after Junmyeon had just touched him like that. It was difficult not to drop a comment about Junmyeon’s ‘things on my face’ spiel, but he managed.

Junmyeon was pouting, lips pushed together and eyebrows furrowed unhappily over two narrowed eyes. He was still holding the icepack above his head. “To have fun. And meet people.”

The right corner of Chanyeol’s mouth pulled into an amused smirk. “Well, you’ve met me now, right?”

“Yeah, but you’re being mean to me,” Junmyeon huffed, shaking the icepack violently above his head for emphasis. “You kept putting this stupid thing on my face!”

“How about you let me make it up to you? It’s the least I can do,” Chanyeol said calmly, eyes hooded. Junmyeon glanced down as the larger male proceeded to place a hand on his knee, but he didn’t make any movement to push him away. “Sound good? I can help you have a lot of fun here tonight, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon took a moment to ponder it, the silence between them filled with too-loud music and pounding bass. And when Junmyeon lowered the icepack in surrender, Chanyeol knew he had the boy right where he wanted him.

* * *

_Sehun (11:57 PM)  
I already told you I’m not talking to Junmyeon._

_Jongdae (12:02 AM)  
u got a! ur both h er nyways. Pls?_

_Sehun (12:04 AM)  
What the hell is up with your spelling? Are you drunk?_

_Jongdae (12:06 AM)_  
Dunt b meen to me. :(  
Talk 2 him.OK? 4 me?

Sehun was sure if he had to deal with one more drunk person, he was going to lose it. He was one hundred percent certain he was the only sober person standing within the four walls of the fraternity house. Sehun didn’t even like parties to begin with; he had only attended to keep an eye on Zitao, as his friend had been grossly eager to attend the event and to start drinking. A lot of bad things could happen to a drunk person, and Sehun was trying to watch out for his friend to make sure none of the possibilities would happen to him. Like falling down the stairs. Or getting alcohol poisoning. Or being alone in the bathroom and choking to death on his own vomit. None of those sounded good, and Sehun didn’t want any of them to come to light if he could prevent them.

He was honestly debating on dragging Zitao back to the dorms. It was already getting late, and Sehun just wanted to go to sleep at this point. Instead, he was standing awkwardly in a corner while Zitao was laughing too loudly next to a girl on the couch. Trying to keep himself occupied so that he didn’t have to watch Zitao flirt with her like she was the last woman on earth, Sehun kept himself glued to the wall and played with his phone. He had been getting quite a few texts from Jongdae tonight. Jongdae’s texts were typically very coherent and hardly ever contained errors, but from how they looked at the moment, it was obvious that he had been drinking too much, just like everyone else.

He really needed to get out of here.

It wasn’t like he had anything to keep him busy now anyway. Those last few texts he had sent to Jongdae had officially killed the remainder of his low battery, so now his phone didn’t even have any juice left in it. Taking that as a signal that it was finally time for him to leave, Sehun sighed and peeled himself off the wall before approaching the couch. Simply getting there was difficult, as the living room had filled up with a copious amount of drunk people all squeezed together and dancing along to the too-loud music that was still blaring.

“Zitao,” Sehun called, tapping his friend on the shoulder twice with his fingers. Someone bumped into him from behind and Sehun turned for just a second to give them a dirty glance that went unnoticed. Zitao swiveled slightly on the couch, eyes bright and his face lit up in a huge grin, still nursing a red cup in one hand. “Get up. We’re gonna go home.”

“But I don’t wanna go yet,” Zitao complained, smile hardly faltering despite his words. “Can’t we stay a little longer? Don’t be so uptight.”

“Zitao, we’ve been here long enough. You and I both have class tomorrow,” Sehun pointed out, though he really doubted Zitao would even be going to class at this rate. “And another thing—“

Someone bumped into him yet again. Losing his patience, Sehun turned on his heel to say something back, like a rather snappy ‘watch it’, but he temporarily lost his thought process when he noticed a rather tight circle of people had formed behind him, huddling near one corner. All of them seemed energized about _something_ , and knowing a bunch of drunk people, it probably wasn’t anything good. Still, Sehun couldn’t help but feel curious about the situation. And judging by the way Zitao heaved himself to his feet – wobbling a little in the process – he was wondering the same thing.

“What’re they doin’?” Zitao asked him, huddling close to Sehun as he stood up on his tiptoes to try to peek over the heads of the other students. “Drinking contest?”

“Looks like it,” Sehun replied, voice and face unimpressed. It was disgusting in his eyes to begin with to let yourself hit that point, but adding in the fact that a large number of attendees were underage, well, that just rubbed him the wrong way even more. “Probably some dumbass freshman trying to impress the upperclassmen as usual.”

Through the crowd of kids, Sehun could see a rather tall boy with a messy cut of brown hair, eagerly egging someone on. Sehun wasn’t sure who he was. However, thanks to being very similar to that stranger in height, Sehun could easily see over majority of the other students’ heads. And after a few moments of curiously waiting, some kids finally shuffled to either side just enough so that he could get a glimpse of the mysterious person who was caught in the middle of the mess.

However, upon seeing his roommate standing there, lowering the cup of beer he had just been chugging, Sehun’s body suddenly felt strangely cold.

“Is that…?” Zitao started, eyebrows arching in surprise. He slapped Sehun on the arm. “Holy shit, Sehun, it’s Junmyeon.”

“I can see that,” Sehun replied dumbly.

Junmyeon didn’t even look like himself. There was a wet spot on his shirt from where he had apparently spilled beer on himself, his face was flushed pink, and while he kept laughing, he started stumbling at the same time until that strange boy with the brown hair wrapped him up in his arms to hold him up. Junmyeon acted like he knew this kid his entire life. He was giggling nonstop, residing in his arms and burrowing his face into the guy’s chest as he continued to hold his now empty red cup in a death grip with one hand.

Something clicked in Sehun’s head. Was this what Junmyeon had gotten so defensive over? Junmyeon had never mentioned this kid before, but with how he seemed plenty comfortable with him, maybe they knew each other plenty well by now. Sehun couldn’t help but wonder: just how close were they? He couldn’t stop himself from pondering if the two were on better terms than he thought, such as an actual relationship residing behind closed doors Sehun had never managed to pry open. It would make sense if the two of them were dating. Junmyeon wasn’t home as much as he used to be, hanging out with a person Sehun didn’t know – and that Junmyeon didn’t want to tell him about – so perhaps he was growing so defensive over the fact he was secretly dating someone.

And yet…

If the two were a couple, why was this happening? Perhaps some couples were different from others, but Sehun didn’t understand why someone’s boyfriend would continue to urge them to drink when they were already so sloshed. Junmyeon was obviously _awfully_ drunk by now. He couldn’t even stand up on his own anymore. Why was this guy still encouraging him to drink when Junmyeon was so wasted? At the rate he was going, Sehun wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t wind up with alcohol poisoning.

If the two were a couple, why did Junmyeon look so uncomfortable when the boy touched him? Junmyeon didn’t have any issues with leaning against the stranger, and it wasn’t like he had much of a choice anyway. He couldn’t stay up on his own two feet and needed to lean against something just to hold himself up. But as he stood there, forehead pressed into the man’s breastbone, Sehun watched, mortified, as Junmyeon jolted a good few inches when the boy suddenly placed his left hand on Junmyeon’s ass. Junmyeon was instantly trying to wiggle away from him, pushing weakly at the boy’s chest, hand jerking and sending some beer sloshing out of his cup.

If the two were a couple, why did the boy that Sehun didn’t know have that smirk on his face?

Something wasn’t right here.

Sehun lost sight of them for a moment. The two had vanished into the sea of other students, and Sehun wasn’t quite sure why that made him feel so panicked. There was a sudden rush of overprotectiveness in his blood and the fact he didn’t know where his roommate was, alone with some guy Sehun didn’t know, it worried him deeply.

He just barely managed to catch sight of the two of them heading up the stairs, hand in hand.

* * *

The door was closed. The bed was soft beneath him. Junmyeon hiccupped, groaning as he rolled himself onto his back. His tummy hurt all of a sudden. Chanyeol mentioned he would help him lie down, so that was nice. Speaking of Chanyeol, the bed shifted, and Junmyeon peeked through his mess of red hair to see the bigger student clambering up onto the bed beside him. Chanyeol said he would take care of him. He’d be okay. Maybe if he was lucky Chanyeol could make his stomach stop hurting too.

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon mumbled, voice so slurred it was difficult to understand a single syllable coming out of his mouth. He was lying flat of his back on the mattress, one leg dangling over the edge of the bed. Chanyeol’s hands were planted on either side of his face, and Junmyeon squeezed his eyes shut, as if it would make the nausea leave. “’M dizzy.”

“You’ve had a lot to drink. That’s why,” Chanyeol told him, smirk on his lips as he clutched fistfuls of the bedding between his fingers, hovering over the smaller male on his hands and knees. “Don’t worry about it. Focus on me.”

“For what?” Junmyeon asked, speech severely slurred. He let out a rather pathetic whine, one small hand coming up to rub at his eyes. “Are you gonna make me not be dizzy anymore?”

“I guess you could put it that way,” Chanyeol replied, edges of his mouth curled up as he leaned down, resting the majority of his weight into one elbow. With his free hand, he grabbed Junmyeon by the chin, twisting the boy’s head to one side so that he could look into Junmyeon’s eyes. “I can take your mind off of things.”

Junmyeon’s eyes, coupled with dilated pupils, opened a little wider as Chanyeol suddenly crushed their mouths together with a force hard enough to bruise. For a moment, mind blank and numbed from far too much alcohol, Junmyeon just lied there, frozen as Chanyeol kissed him roughly.

At last, he managed to gather his bearings.

“Mmph—“ Junmyeon started against Chanyeol’s mouth, his hands fumbling and pushing weakly at the bigger student’s chest. His legs jerked, impulsively trying to raise them closer to his torso. When Chanyeol broke the kiss, both to breathe and to figure out what was suddenly bothering Junmyeon, Junmyeon’s mouth was hanging open in a breathless gasp. “C-Chanyeol—I don’t—“

“You don’t…?” Chanyeol asked, voice muffled by the sound of bass pounding beneath the floorboards.

“I don’t – _hic_ – w-want you to…kiss me,” Junmyeon slurred, hands still shoved into Chanyeol’s chest and clutching fistfuls of his shirt. “My b-boyfriend will be mad.”

“You don’t have a boyfriend,” Chanyeol said curtly, entertainment now gone from his face. “Jongdae told me you’re single.”

“But I do,” Junmyeon whined back at him, face flushed.

“Tell me his name,” Chanyeol replied, face unemotional and voice clipped.

“His name is… Uh…” Junmyeon started, trailing off after a second. What was his boyfriend’s name? Junmyeon could not remember. He remembered soft locks of black hair, very fuzzy details of a face, but… “Hn, I don’t… I don’t remember… But I like him…a _lot_. I think… I think his name is Yeokbeom? I dunno. But he’ll be mad if you kiss me.”

“You’re so drunk you’re making shit up. Luckily for you, you’re cute when you’re drunk. Not some sloppy mess.” There was suddenly more force in Chanyeol’s limbs as he swatted Junmyeon’s hands away before shoving him down roughly into the mattress, ignoring Junmyeon’s squeak of confusion and surprise. “Don’t worry. I’ll treat you to something your so-called ‘boyfriend’ hasn’t given you.”

The world was hazy and Junmyeon’s mind was watered down from a gross amount of alcohol. He couldn’t keep up.

_“When are you going to introduce me to him?” Chanyeol complained, sprawled on the fraternity house couch next to Jongdae as the two momentarily paused their video game. “He’s so damn cute.”_

_“One of these days I will. He’s busy a lot and so am I. We’re college kids.” Jongdae shrugged casually before nudging Chanyeol in the ribs with his elbow. “You think he’s your type?”_

_“I know for a fact he is,” Chanyeol replied immediately. “Is he single?”_

One moment Chanyeol was kissing him, biting down on his lower lip, and the next, there were hands yanking on the hem of his shirt, tugging it upwards.

_“He is, but Junmyeon is ridiculously shy. You should see how red he gets when you so much as ask him about kissing,” Jongdae explained. “So good luck getting him to go out with you. I can introduce you sometime, but that’s about it. You’re on your own otherwise.”_

Large fingers hooking into the waistband of his jeans, tugging, deftly unfastening the button that adorned them.

_“I have my ways, ya know. And charms,” Chanyeol said smugly. “I’ll make him mine before you know it, Jongdae. You have my word for it.”_

Even though the air of Chanyeol’s bedroom was hot, Junmyeon couldn’t help but shiver as his pants were suddenly yanked down his legs.

“Chanyeol—Wait, _wait_ ,” Junmyeon mumbled, trying his hardest to shove the larger male away. “’M not r-ready—“

 “Just trust me, Junmyeon,” Chanyeol told him, fingers digging into his hipbones to hold him down against the bed because Junmyeon wouldn’t stop wiggling. “It’ll feel good. I promise.”

There he was, lying on Chanyeol’s bed, shirt bunched up around his chest and his jeans down around his calves. He was pushing pathetically at Chanyeol’s chest again, speech slurred, his vision blurring uncontrollably because he was far too full of booze to even think straight anymore. Chanyeol was too big and too strong and Junmyeon couldn’t stop thinking about the man whose face he suddenly couldn’t remember anymore, his boyfriend whose name he couldn’t remember anymore, but Junmyeon knew he was going to be unhappy. Unhappy like he was, hiccupping from too much alcohol and crying and kicking pathetically as he told Chanyeol he wasn’t ready yet and—

“Get your goddamn hands _off of him!”_

The world was moving much too fast and Junmyeon couldn’t keep up. He didn’t remember what had happened. The next thing he knew, there was arguing, loud screams over the bass that still thumped through the floor. Strong hands helping him sit up slowly, aiding him in regaining a bit of his dignity by pulling his pants up for him, ignoring the miracle that Junmyeon was still wearing his underwear. Someone helping him to his feet, and Junmyeon’s kneecaps buckled beneath him. He was so drunk he couldn’t even stand up anymore, instantly staggering sideways and nearly collapsing onto the carpet until two hands wrapped around him and pulled him close.

Through the haze of his mind, Junmyeon recognized the man yelling. He remembered Zitao, Zitao who was currently screaming himself hoarse, holding Chanyeol by the front of his shirt. And he remembered Sehun, who was currently cradling him protectively against his chest. Junmyeon’s legs were shaky beneath him and Sehun’s hands were warm and he watched Chanyeol take a swing at his friend, missing, only for Zitao to cock an arm back and slug him in a crisp hook.

Junmyeon did not know why, perhaps it was that sudden moment of violence, or perhaps his mouth felt dirty and he couldn’t stop thinking about the silhouette of his boyfriend that was haunting his mind, but he could not stop himself from suddenly bursting into tears.

* * *

After falling down the front steps of the fraternity house, neither Sehun or Zitao trusted him enough to let him move on his own. He was curled up beside Sehun on the bottom of the steps, leaning into his frame for support and not bothering to try to hold back the stream of hiccups that was tearing out of his mouth at a rapid pace.

He didn’t feel well all of a sudden.

“Here, I got him a drink,” Zitao said then, stooping down to hand off a cup to Sehun. Thankfully, even though Zitao was drunk, he wasn’t completely gone at this point. Sehun nodded in thanks, accepting his friend’s offering. Zitao then jerked his thumb over one shoulder. “’M gonna finish talking to Jongdae. Watch him. Might be good to call someone too.”

Zitao went back inside then, and Sehun turned his attention back onto Junmyeon. The smaller boy was curled up beside him, burrowed into Sehun’s body, head tucked beneath his friend’s chin. Sehun reached down to rub a hand down his back to get his attention. “Hey. Sit up, you need to drink this.”

“Nooo,” Junmyeon moaned pathetically back at him. “I don’t – _hic_ – want any more b-beer.”

“It’s not beer, Junmyeon. The last thing on the planet I’d give you right now is beer. You’re already so drunk you can’t even stand up,” Sehun replied, eyebrows furrowing as he managed to pry Junmyeon off of him with his free hand. “It’s water. You need to drink some.”

Junmyeon couldn’t even drink by himself. Sehun had tried to hand him the cup of water, and thankfully he hadn’t let go when he thought Junmyeon had a grip on it, because Junmyeon would have dropped it. Sehun would up sitting there and helping Junmyeon drink, much like one would do with an infant, keeping one hand resting on the back of Junmyeon’s neck to support his head.

This definitely wasn’t good.

“Do you have your phone? Or did you lose it?” Sehun asked as he lowered the cup so that Junmyeon could breathe. “Mine died. If you have yours, let me see it. I can call Yixing to come get you. Hopefully he’s still awake. I know Jongin is sleeping already.”

The best option was for him and Zitao to take Junmyeon home, but Sehun was the only sober one. He already had to keep an eye on a drunk Zitao and a completely wasted Junmyeon wouldn’t help matters any. Sehun wasn’t sure if he could watch them both at once. Besides, Junmyeon needed to get home _now_. And Zitao definitely wasn’t leaving any time soon. As soon as the two of them had managed to get the bedroom door open, which had by some miracle been unlocked, things had gone downhill. While Sehun focused on taking care of Junmyeon the best he could, Zitao had flown off the handle. He had already socked the guy in the face once and was still inside, arguing with both him and Jongdae.

Sehun already knew this wasn’t going to end well, and the last thing he wanted was to leave Zitao alone and get into more trouble.

Thankfully, Junmyeon seemed to understand, and began to pat himself down in search of his phone. His phone was still tucked away in his back pocket where it had been all evening, and by some miracle, Junmyeon hadn’t cracked it from sitting on it. Sehun let Junmyeon rest against him, listening to the boy moan pathetically and complain he didn’t feel well. After taking a moment to rub his back, Sehun focused his attention on Junmyeon’s phone. He didn’t know the password to gain access, but he could see the smudges of repetitive fingerprints along certain parts of the screen. It was a tedious guessing game, but at long last, Sehun managed to unlock Junmyeon’s phone.

And he was instantly bombarded by an ocean of notifications.

Three phone calls and eight text messages. Sehun’s eyes were wide with surprise and, curiosity getting the best of him, Sehun tapped on the phone icon first to check the call logs. Sehun did not recognize the phone number, but he _did_ recognize the name stored in Junmyeon’s phone to accompany it.

_Missed Call (9:49 PM) →_ _♥_ _Yifan_ _♥_  
Missed Call (11:27 PM) → _♥_ _Yifan_ _♥  
Missed Call (12:47 AM) → _ _♥_ _Yifan_ _♥_

Heart suddenly pounding in his chest, Sehun fumbled with the keys and opened the text messages.

_Yifan (9:32 PM)  
Sooo… I have an idea for this weekend ;)_

_Yifan (9:40 PM)_  
You’ll have to text me back soon I can’t wait  
to tell you about it. I’ll be nice and give you  
advanced notice this time. You’ll like it.

 _Yifan (10:02 PM)_  
I thought you had your phone on vibrate again and  
didn’t hear me so I tried to call you. Sorry if you’re  
busy I’m not trying to be annoying.  
At least not right now.  
I can whine later when you reply that you’re ignoring me.

 _Yifan (10:45 PM)_  
You never go this long without replying, even when you have class.  
Did I do something to upset you?

 _Yifan (11:37 PM)_  
Junmyeon please text me or call me back.  
I’m getting worried.

 _Yifan (11:52 PM)_  
I really hope you’re just sleeping.  
You’re making me nervous.  
You always say good night to me.

_Yifan (12:00 AM)  
Text me back when you get up so I know you’re okay._

_Yifan (12:56 AM)_  
I’m still up and will be for a while if you see these.  
Be safe, okay? I’m really worried about you.

Sehun’s mind was reeling. It all suddenly made sense: why Junmyeon had been so secretive, why Junmyeon never gossiped about Yifan, why Junmyeon was always hanging out in the art building outside of class. Sehun couldn’t believe his eyes, even when he went to the home screen and was greeted by a wallpaper of Yifan and Junmyeon standing in an ocean of penguin statues and doing cheesy peace signs together.

Junmyeon and Yifan were _dating_.

Thankfully, Junmyeon didn’t seem to notice his discomfort, eyes closed as he continued leaning against Sehun. Trying to ignore everything he had just seen, Sehun went back into the phone logs and typed in Yixing’s number. After a few moments of ringing, the call went to voicemail. Yixing must have been asleep too. Sehun cast a brief glance down at Junmyeon, knowing he needed to get the boy out of here soon, before casting a glance down at the phone.

Uncertain of the consequences of what he was about to do, Sehun sucked in a deep breath and pressed the call button.

_Calling →_ _♥_ _Yifan_ _♥_

After the fourth ring, there was a click on the other end of the line, and Sehun’s heart was residing in his throat. He had heard many things about Yifan, but he had never met the man, or even heard his voice. Yifan had so many bad rumors and stories floating around on campus about him, and Junmyeon was dating him.

It felt like he was dreaming.

 _“Hello?”_ The man’s voice was deep and groggy from sleep. _“Junmyeon? What the hell is the matter with you? I worried myself sick over you and now that I just barely managed to fall asleep, you call and wake me up? You could’ve called me sooner!”_

Sehun gulped, clutching the phone for dear life as Yifan ranted. At long last, when Yifan took a breath, Sehun managed to speak. “Um. Is this Kris?”

 _“Excuse me?”_ Yifan snapped, sounding a little more awake all of a sudden. _“Who the fuck is this?”_

“I’m Sehun. Junmyeon is my roommate,” Sehun explained, struggling to keep his voice steady. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, but we’re in a bad spot at the moment and I wasn’t sure who else to call—“

 _“Let me talk to Junmyeon_ ,” Yifan interrupted, obviously not in the mood.

“He’s…” Sehun started, glancing down to find Junmyeon with his face burrowed under Sehun’s arm, nose pressed against his ribcage and breathing labored. “He’s why I called you. There was a party and Junmyeon’s been drinking. He’s really bad off right now.”

 _“So let me get this straight. You’re at a party and Junmyeon is shitfaced,”_ Yifan began slowly, _“and now you’re calling me because you want me to come get him? Look, here’s my question. Why was no one watching him? You? Your friends? No one bothered to check up on him, and now he’s so drunk he needs someone to pick him up?”_

“Well, I—“

 _“Don’t even try to feed me some bullshit excuse, I’m not an idiot. I don’t care whose idea it was to bring him, and I don’t care who the last person was to see him. The point here is that if you’re friends, then the least you could do is keep an eye on the kid who has never even gone fucking drinking before!”_ Yifan shouted, temper spiking. _“Do you have any idea of what could have happened to him tonight? I don’t even know you and you make me nauseated. I damn well hope you nor your buddies call Junmyeon your friend. Now look. If you want me to come get him, you have to at least meet me somewhere, preferably halfway. I can’t exactly stroll up to some campus party and take a kid back with me.”_

Giving Yifan a location for them to meet was the easy part. Taking the insults and yelling from Yifan also wasn’t that difficult. But hanging up the phone, and looking down at Junmyeon, that was the hard part. Junmyeon, who was so drunk he struggled to help him to his feet. Junmyeon, who was crying and telling Sehun to make his stomach stop hurting. Junmyeon, who had nearly lost his virginity tonight in the worst of ways.

He knew Junmyeon felt sick, but right then, so did Sehun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 24 Nov 2016


	19. Opaque

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ OPAQUE ]_
> 
> _impenetrable to the passage of light_

Yifan was struggling to ignore the pain in his spine. Even though Junmyeon was small, the fact that he had a bad back made Junmyeon feel like he was much heavier than he really was. It probably didn’t help that Junmyeon was sagging completely against him, arms wrapped around his neck and nearly choking him as Yifan continued to keep his arms threaded around his legs. The journey felt much too long. His apartment was still half a mile away, and Yifan was trying his hardest to ignore the pain as he piggybacked Junmyeon down the sidewalk. At nearly two in the morning, the world was dark and quiet.

If he had taken his motorcycle, he would have been home by now, but he had known after that phone call that he wouldn’t be able to take it. Sure, Yifan would not have an issue driving his bike during the night, but it would have been a mistake. Junmyeon was so drunk he couldn’t even stand, and Yifan was positive that if they had taken the motorcycle, Junmyeon would have fallen right off and onto the pavement. The bus lines didn’t run this late. Yifan didn’t have a choice but to walk.

Sighing quietly through his nose, he continued to focus on taking it one step at a time.

“Yeokbeom,” Junmyeon slurred, his face pressed against Yifan’s upper back. “Yeoookbeom.”

“I already told you to quit calling me that,” Yifan replied, voice filled with aggravation. “And it’s not like my name is hard to pronounce, drunk or not.”

Junmyeon hiccupped in his ear and buried his nose down into the junction of Yifan’s neck and shoulder. His voice was muffled against the fabric of his coat. “Yeokbeom, I don’t…feel good…”

Trying to be patient, Yifan sighed again, softly and slowly, as he adjusted his grip on Junmyeon’s legs. “You’ve already told me that four times, Junmyeon.”

“But Yeokbeooom,” Junmyeon whined, hiccupping once more before moaning pathetically into the man’s shoulder. All Yifan could smell was alcohol. “My tummy h-hurts…”

“Well I don’t know what you want me to do about it,” Yifan grumbled. “I already had to come get you. Just don’t think about it.”

“But Yeokbeom,” Junmyeon complained a little louder, squirming against Yifan’s back. “Yeokbeom, Yeokbeom, Yeokbeooom—“

Yifan’s right eye twitched. “If you call me that again I’m going to drop you.”

“But Yeokbeom,” Junmyeon whined all over again, his breath hitching momentarily as he choked. “I—I-I—“

That was the only warning Yifan received before Junmyeon suddenly gagged loudly from behind him. Yifan’s mental prayers for the trip to go smoothly went unanswered as Junmyeon unceremoniously threw up, successfully getting his mess all over the back of his jacket and shoulder.

Standing there on an abandoned sidewalk at one forty AM, hefting a drunken college student on his damaged back that was now covered in vomit, Yifan closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Yifan wasn’t sure how he had pulled it off, but he had somehow managed to lug Junmyeon up the stairs of his apartment building. He hadn’t been able to piggyback him up the steps – Yifan could barely climb stairs on his own as it was – but he supported the majority of Junmyeon’s weight as they traveled upwards, letting the student sling an arm around his neck as they took it one step at a time. The moment they set foot indoors, Yifan stripped his jacket off, still disgusted that Junmyeon had gotten sick on him.

Then again, after how much Junmyeon had thrown up once they made it to the apartment, his jacket was the last thing on his mind. Yifan had thankfully ushered him into the bathroom prior to that, seating Junmyeon on the floor to try to help him change out of his dirty clothing, shirt stained from spilled beer and his own puke from earlier. He hadn’t even received the chance to help Junmyeon take his shirt off before Junmyeon started gagging all over again. And the next thing Yifan knew, there he was, hovering over Junmyeon as the kid sat on his knees on his bathroom floor with his head shoved down into his toilet, vomiting his guts out.

At long last, after what felt like an eternity, Junmyeon finally quit throwing up long enough for Yifan to move him into the bedroom. He quickly assisted the boy in stripping off his shirt, and helped him pull one of his old nightshirts over his head instead. The old band t-shirt was much too large on him, but it was better than nothing. Yifan then sat down on the edge of the bed, cleaning Junmyeon’s sweaty face with a cool cloth. A – for now – empty bucket sat on the floor beside the bed, because Yifan already knew the vomiting wasn’t over. He doubted Junmyeon would be able to make it to the bathroom to throw up, so this would have to do for now.

“I don’t feel good,” Junmyeon mumbled, his head limp in Yifan’s hand. The professor was holding Junmyeon’s chin in one palm, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with the rag by using his other hand. Without Yifan’s support, there was no doubt that Junmyeon’s head would have gone sagging right down towards the ground. “My tummy still – _hic_ – hurts.”

“Because you drank way too much. You’ll feel better once you get the rest of it out,” Yifan murmured in response, absently reaching out with one hand to brush Junmyeon’s sweaty bangs out of his eyes. “Just don’t throw up in the bed or on the floor. I gave you the bucket for a reason.”

“M’kay,” Junmyeon slurred in response. “I won’t m-miss.”

“Let’s hope not,” Yifan said tiredly. He was downright exhausted. With a sigh, he heaved himself off the bed, trying his hardest to ignore the white-hot pain that seared down his spine when he moved. “Alright. Let’s get you lying down so I can go to bed.”

Junmyeon’s eyes were big and round. “You aren’t…gonna stay with me?”

“And lie right beside you while you puke all night? I think not. I’ll sleep on the couch,” Yifan told him. “Now come on, you gotta work with me here. Let’s get your pants changed.”

In retrospect, he didn’t _have_ to give Junmyeon any pants, but it was winter and his bedroom grew very cold at night. He had a spare pair of sweatpants lying around, so those would work. They were going to be huge on Junmyeon, but they were just to wear to bed for one night; it would be fine.

Or, well, so Yifan thought. He kept trying to help Junmyeon lift his hips to strip him of his stained jeans, but apparently Junmyeon was ticklish, because he wouldn’t quit giggling. After a long struggle, Yifan at last managed to get the button and zipper undone. He yanked them down Junmyeon’s legs as fast as he could before Junmyeon let his hips fall back down onto the bed, and with a groan of relief, he finally managed to pull them completely off. there was no hesitation in Yifan’s movements as he swiped the sweatpants off the bed, grabbing one of Junmyeon’s legs to begin dressing him. He worked the fabric up both limbs before tugging them up over Junmyeon’s hips, and for a moment, Yifan felt victorious.

Until he noticed something peeking out over the waistband of Junmyeon’s underwear.

“What is this?” Yifan asked then, pushing the hem of Junmyeon’s shirt out of the way while simultaneously tugging down the pants a little more. Junmyeon’s skin was stained. The pale flesh was an unflattering shade of purple and black, and when Yifan moved all the fabric out of the way to examine the spot more closely, there was a _bruise_ on Junmyeon’s hipbone. “Junmyeon, what did you do to your hip?”

Junmyeon craned his neck to take a look, pink lips pushing together as he pouted. “Ah… I dunno.”

“You don’t know anything at all that could have caused this?” Yifan asked, arching his eyebrows. It wasn’t very shocking. Junmyeon had been so drunk that Yifan was more surprised over the fact he had yet to completely lose consciousness. He frowned, smoothing his thumb over the mark. “It looks like a bruise from a finger.”

“Ohh.” Junmyeon suddenly _giggled_ , missing the confused glance Yifan gave him. “I think I know what happened. I bet that was – _hic_ – from C-Chanyeol.”

Yifan froze then, a sense of dread swelling rapidly in his stomach. “Who’s Chanyeol?”

“I met him at the p-party,” Junmyeon slurred in response.

 His hands unconsciously pressed down harder against Junmyeon’s pelvis. Yifan’s eyes were narrowing. A strange mixture of emotions was boiling in his stomach. “Why was he touching you?”

“Well… You can’t tell Yifan,” Junmyeon mumbled, obviously still awfully drunk if he didn’t totally realize who he was talking to. “But… Chanyeol k-kissed me…”

Yifan felt his muscles tense. “ _Kissed_ you?”

“Uh-huh. W-Well, like… We kissed and stuff. His bed was really soft,” Junmyeon rambled, oblivious to the hurt and _anger_ brimming in Yifan’s eyes, more and more apparent with every word. “He t-took off my pants… His room was really warm, and. Yeah.”

Yifan was silent for a long moment, eyes glazed over with emotion, his throat bobbing as he forced himself to swallow. At last, Yifan found the energy to move, hauling himself onto his own two feet and letting out a clipped ‘I see’.

Begrudgingly, Yifan helped tuck Junmyeon into bed. Unsure of what the boy’s core temperature was going to do overnight, Yifan merely draped the thin sheet over him. If Junmyeon became cold in the night, there were plenty of blankets on the bed he could use. To make sure Junmyeon wouldn’t choke, Yifan helped him lie down on his side, facing the wall so he would have access to the bucket sitting on the floor beside his bed.

It took a gross amount of effort not to slam the bedroom door shut behind him.

His mind was a whirlwind and each footstep felt like it was so much of a burden. Even walking hurt, and Yifan found himself curling his fingers around the edges of his kitchen countertop as he began to warm up one of his heated wraps in his microwave. He could practically feel the discs in his back pulsing with every breath he took, and he knew, deep down, he had pushed his body over the limit for the day.

He couldn’t completely focus on the pain anyway. There was too much on his mind, and Yifan’s eyes were narrowed into two angry slits as he leaned the majority of his weight against the countertop, watching the timer on his microwave slowly tick closer to zero.

Junmyeon had kissed another man.

Yifan did not know all the details and he was aware of that, but what Junmyeon had told him up to this point made Yifan’s entire body hot with anger and he struggled not to respond to the sudden aching in his chest. Whether he knew everything that happened or not, it didn’t change the fact that Junmyeon’s lips had been on someone else’s. It didn’t change the fact that Junmyeon had been stripped down and touched by someone else. It didn’t change the fact that Junmyeon may have gone much farther in the bedroom than he was currently letting on, and the mere thought of Junmyeon cheating on him with another man made Yifan feel sick to his stomach.

Something wet and hot pricked his eyes and Yifan did not know if it was from exhaustion, pain, or the betrayal.

* * *

When Junmyeon cracked his eyes open, he was experiencing the worst headache of his entire life. Early morning sunlight strained through the curtains. All he could taste was bile and his sweaty cheeks were stained with dried salty tears he had shed throughout the entire night while he threw up. He hadn’t slept much. Aside from the pain in his skull, his muscles ached badly. He was fatigued and his throat ached for water as he was dehydrated, but Junmyeon didn’t want to move, let alone get out of bed.

Wait. Bed?

Junmyeon froze. The sheets were not his own. They were a different softness, a different color. This was not his bed that he was lying on and Junmyeon was struggling not to panic. As he let his eyes wander the room, he found that he did not recognize his surroundings at all. He did not know where he was. And when he tried to think back, to figure out how he had gotten here, he couldn’t remember.

He couldn’t remember anything, nothing beyond walking down the sidewalk with Jongdae. After that, all of his memories were gone. Junmyeon had been blackout drunk nearly the entire night; it was not surprising that he could not remember anything.

But it was terrifying.

With a large amount of effort and a pulsing skull, Junmyeon slowly heaved himself out of bed. He crept into the bathroom first, noticing that he was wearing someone else’s clothes. The interior of the bathroom seemed oddly familiar, but Junmyeon could not put his finger on _why_ it seemed familiar to him.

He shuffled out of the bathroom as quietly as he could, unsure of what he was potentially getting himself into. He did not know where he was or whose home he was currently residing in, and it spelled trouble for Junmyeon, even through the dizziness and headaches.

There was a couch against the far wall. Junmyeon could just barely make out the lump of a body lying upon it. Swallowing nervously, Junmyeon approached quietly and carefully, wanting to avoid disturbing the stranger as much as possible.

But as he drew nearer, Junmyeon realized it was no stranger at all. It was Yifan, curled up on his couch with a blanket swaddled around his hipbones and draped over only one leg. A strange sense of relief flooded Junmyeon’s veins as he set his puffy eyes on the man. This was Yifan’s apartment. He was safe. He couldn’t remember what had happened or how he had gotten here, but Yifan was here, and Junmyeon already knew the man would take good care of him no matter what.

Yifan didn’t stir underneath his gaze. His back was resting against a few couch cushions, head twisted awkwardly to one side that was surely going to cause him neck pain when he awoke. Junmyeon could see how swollen his eyes were, partially hidden beneath the reading glasses that were still perched upon the bridge of his nose. His lips were parted as he breathed deeply. There was a lamp on a nearby side table still glowing softly; Junmyeon could only assume Yifan had been using it last night to read and had fallen asleep doing so. And his confirmation came in the form of a magazine, loosely clutched in Yifan’s unmoving fingers, with a front cover plastered in photographs of motorcycles.

Wanting to let the man rest, Junmyeon crept slowly and quietly in the direction of the kitchen. His head was throbbing. Junmyeon dug around in the cabinets almost desperately, trying to find a glass so that he could get some water and hopefully find some pain relievers as well.

Unfortunately, he seemed to have been making too much noise, because Yifan stirred on the couch, letting out an unhappy mumble in the process. Junmyeon froze, watching Yifan slowly come to, his voice a disoriented and deep slur of ‘babe?’.

Junmyeon wasn’t sure if the man was still dreaming despite just opening his eyes, because never before in their relationship had Yifan ever given him a nickname, let alone _babe._

After a few minutes, Yifan finally seeming to be coming to reality properly. He smoothed one large palm over his face, accidentally pushing his glasses up the slope of his nose uncomfortably high.

“Yifan?” Junmyeon asked, just barely loud enough for the man to hear him. And he knew that Yifan did, because the man glanced over in his direction for a brief second as he combed his fingers through his disheveled hair. “You awake?”

But Yifan didn’t bother to answer him. He had yet to have his coffee, so at first Junmyeon thought that was the problem. However, he slowly began to realize there was a deeper issue at hand. Still huddled in the kitchen, Junmyeon watched as Yifan struggled to sit up, hands clenched into fists and shoved down against the cushions as he forced himself, at an excruciatingly slow pace, to get up. There was one hand pressed against his lower back as he practically limped towards his bathroom, teeth gritted as he noisily closed the door behind himself.

Junmyeon, who had at last managed to get his hands on water and painkillers, directed a worried glance toward the door. Yifan’s back normally hurt, but Junmyeon had never seen Yifan affected to this extent so early in the day. Had he somehow hurt his back? And if he had, Junmyeon didn’t know how it had happened. All of the events from the night before were a mystery to him, and he needed answers.

After what felt like ages, Yifan emerged from the bathroom, shirt missing, heated wrap still attached to his lower back, and a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. Junmyeon continued to awkwardly hover in the kitchen, dizzy and unsure of what to do as he watched Yifan wander around his apartment, brushing his teeth while looking for a change of clothes. And even though Yifan was brushing his teeth, the man’s silence leading up to the moment bothered Junmyeon immensely. It reminded him of when he had first met Yifan and he hardly even spared him a glance, let alone spoke to him.

Something wasn’t right.

“Yifan,” Junmyeon croaked, the sound of his own voice making his head pound even more. Yifan had emerged from the bedroom with a shirt clutched in one hand, tossing it onto the counter as he began to tug at the wrap still stuck to his skin. Junmyeon listened to the sound of the tape peeling away from his body and all Yifan gave him in response was a grunt. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“What does it matter?” Yifan replied rhetorically, at last managing to remove the patch. He began to rummage through a cabinet and dig through a box before throwing a new wrap into his microwave. His back really must have been bothering him, and it was worrying.

The defensive response caused a frown to appear on Junmyeon’s face. “It matters a lot… I don’t want to see you hurt. You know that.”

“Really?” Yifan drawled sarcastically, leaning against the counter. “I don’t think you have room to make such a claim, considering how you acted last night.”

Junmyeon froze, swallowing uncomfortably. This was what he had been afraid of. He must have done _something,_ but Junmyeon had no recollection of it. The possibilities of what he had done were endless and it was awful to think about.

Struggling to keep the nervousness out of his voice, Junmyeon spoke quietly. “Did I do something last night to upset you?”

He struck a nerve immediately and he knew it, watching how Yifan’s biceps tensed as he opened the door to the microwave. “I guess you could say that.”

Yifan was normally awfully blunt; avoidance was not his usual game. Junmyeon swallowed, clutching his glass of water tightly as Yifan busied himself with applying the new wrap to his back. Yifan had mentioned it always hurt worse at night, but hadn’t commented much about pain early in the morning. But Junmyeon knew plenty well that Yifan’s typical pain in the early hours wasn’t enough to warrant a patch.

“What did I do?” Junmyeon squeaked out anxiously, unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer. Yifan wouldn’t look at him, arms tense. “Yifan… Can’t you tell me what I did? I know you’re angry, and I promise I didn’t mean to do anything to make you feel this way, I didn’t intend to—“

“Just stop,” Yifan interrupted, his voice cold. He slammed the microwave shut. The resulting _bang_ made a throb of pain jolt through Junmyeon’s skull. “If you didn’t want things to turn out this way, if you didn’t intend on it, then maybe you shouldn’t have put yourself into that situation to begin with.”

“What do you mean?” Junmyeon murmured, hand tightening upon the empty glass.

“What I _mean_ ,” Yifan snapped back at him, his voice beginning to rise with growing anger, “is that maybe you should have used your head before you went and got drunk off your ass at some college party!”

Junmyeon audibly swallowed, head pulsing. “Is that why you’re angry with me? Because I got really drunk? I didn’t mean to drink that much—“

“How do you not ‘intend’ on it? What, did someone force you to drink? Even if they did, I doubt you’ll remember it.” Yifan’s eyes narrowed. “I know how you are, Junmyeon! Someone probably dropped a comment to you and you didn’t like it so you gave into the peer pressure to try to look good. So don’t try to stand here and tell me that you didn’t ‘intend’ to drink because I’m not an idiot and I know better than to believe that.”

“I don’t know. That may be what happened.” Junmyeon’s gaze lowered. Yifan was right. He couldn’t remember. His voice was just above a whisper. “I’m really sorry. Um… Thank you for watching over me last night.”

“Whatever. It’s not like you even deserved my help,” Yifan practically snarled back at him, smoothing one hand over his back to flatten the wrap against his skin.

“You don’t have to have an attitude about it,” Junmyeon snapped back at him crankily, unable to bite his tongue anymore. “I said I was sorry. What more do you want me to say?”

“I’ll have an attitude about it if I fucking want to! I’m pissed _off_ and if I wanna be then I will! Sorry isn’t fucking good enough!” Yifan suddenly yelled, temper flaring as he whipped around to face Junmyeon properly. “Do you have any idea how worried I was about you?! I thought something bad had happened to you, but no, I worried over nothing because you were just busy getting shitfaced drunk at some party. Worried myself sick over you, carried you home, hurt myself from lugging you home, had to deal with you throwing up everywhere, even on me, all because you went and got wasted at some stupid party. I’m surprised you didn’t get alcohol poisoning. I’m surprised that nothing bad happened to you. Do you not understand what could have happened to you last night? You could have gotten severely hurt, you could have _died_! But no, it’s fine, you just want to try to impress some kids you just met and will never see again!”

His head was pounding. Junmyeon was practically whimpering as he listened to Yifan yell. “Yifan… Yifan, I’m sorry, can you please talk a little softer, my head hur—“

“I don’t _care_ if your head hurts! You fucking deserve it! My back hurts and you don’t hear me bitching about it! There are so many things right now I could scream at you for and it probably wouldn’t make a bit of difference because I already know you won’t remember any of it. It’ll be a big damn waste of breath,” Yifan snarled. “God, I’m so disappointed in you it’s not even funny.”

Junmyeon suddenly felt very small as he stood there before his boyfriend, staring down at his toes in shame. “Yifan—“

“Stop. I don’t want to hear it. It’s not like you give a fuck about me,” Yifan argued.

“Yifan, you’re my _boyfriend_ ,” Junmyeon stressed, eyebrows drawing together worriedly. “Of course I care about you.”

The dam burst, and Junmyeon was not ready for the way Yifan whirled around to face him, eyes bright with rage and betrayal. “ _Really?!_ You really expect me to believe that?! You _honestly_ think I trust you right now or think you care about me after what you’ve done?”

“Yifan, just because I drank doesn’t mean you shouldn’t trust me anymore—“

“That has nothing to do with it!” Yifan bellowed, “I’m talking about how you went behind my back and decided to suck face with some guy you just met last night!”

Junmyeon’s eyes widened. “Like— _Kissing?”_

“No shit, Junmyeon! You must have had a really good time last night, right? Getting to make out with some kid younger than me and probably better looking on top of it. He must have been,” Yifan replied bitterly, “you let him take your pants off. I bet you let him fuck you too, didn’t you? You even have bruises of his fingers on your hips. Did it feel good, Junmyeon, letting him touch you like that, when you wouldn’t even let _me_ do that to you?”

Junmyeon was silent for a second, trying to ignore the pain in his skull, before the situation fully dawned on him. Eyes wide with pure terror, Junmyeon stuttered and choked over his words. “Yifan, I wouldn’t—I’d never—“

“Don’t say you’d never cheat on me because you did _something_ with _someone_! You told me to my face last night that you guys kissed! You told me that he took off your pants and I saw the fucking bruise with my own two eyes, Junmyeon,” Yifan snarled in response, his voice nearly a scream. “So you wanna know why I’m pissed at you? I work my ass off trying to watch out for you, I do my damn best to try to treat you right and this is what I get back from you. I barely sleep because of how worried I am and bring you back from a party and take care of you and then, hey, guess what, my boyfriend went and got pretty damn comfortable with some random guy! Do you know how shitty that makes me feel?”

Yifan’s eyes were burning up with anger and Junmyeon could feel the guilt swelling in his stomach. Never before in his entire life had Junmyeon _ever_ thought about cheating on Yifan. He never had the urge to sleep with someone else; after all, Junmyeon had been dodging sex for ages now. Some random guy wasn’t going to get it from him in a snap of his fingers. But if what Yifan was saying was true, if the comments Junmyeon had said last night were true to make him think in such a manner, then this was definitely not good. To tell Yifan in a drunken stupor that he had kissed someone else and that a stranger had taken off his clothes…

Junmyeon didn’t know if they had slept together or not, but he _did_ know that even if they had shared only a kiss, he had made a horrible mistake. And if the mere thought of what he had done last night wasn’t enough to make him feel guilty, the way that Yifan’s eyes were suddenly growing damp was definitely tugging at his heartstrings.

“Am I not good enough for you?” Yifan at last asked, voice hardly above a whisper. His eyes were glistening with unshed tears. “I try so _hard_ for you, Junmyeon. I try hard because I love you and I try hard because I want you to be happy. But I guess it isn’t good enough.”

 _I love you_.

Junmyeon’s brain recognized those words immediately and he felt his heart drop right down into the soles of his feet. Yifan loved him. Yifan loved him and the confession had fallen from his lips while they were standing around arguing over whether or not a currently hungover Junmyeon had cheated on him.

He felt like he was going to be sick, guilt seeping down into his very bones.

“Yifan…” Junmyeon started, voice weak as he watched Yifan turn away from him, shrugging on his shirt. “Yifan, _please…”_

“Just leave me alone,” Yifan mumbled in response, not daring to look at Junmyeon as he shuffled into the other room, working on sliding a pair of battered sneakers. “I have a long day of lectures ahead of me.”

“You don’t have to go,” Junmyeon said pathetically, as if he was begging Yifan not to vanish.

“I have work to do. The real world doesn’t care about my problems. And not all of us can play hooky because they’re severely hungover.” Yifan shrugged on his jacket and snatched up his keys, head turned so that he didn’t have to look at Junmyeon. “I want you out of here by the time I get back.”

Before Junmyeon had a chance to reply, Yifan was already heading out the door, motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm. The last thing Junmyeon saw was Yifan limping outside and noisily closing the door behind him as a bit of moisture dribbled free from his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 1 Dec 2016


	20. Motif

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _
> 
> [ MOTIF ]
> 
> _
> 
> _a distinctive and often recurring feature in a composition_

The first sign that Sehun received that something was wrong came in the form of the door to his dorm room being unlocked. Even if he was just heading downstairs for a second to do laundry, Sehun always locked the door before leaving. And he was certain he had locked it before heading to his lecture earlier that morning too.

Hesitating briefly, Sehun then pushed the door open. The bedroom was pitch black. He was sure that he had opened the curtains when he got up, but they were presently pulled tightly shut, not allowing a single spot of light into the room.

It was then Sehun noticed, through the darkness, a large lump beneath the covers of Junmyeon’s bed. Ah. That explained it.

Unsure as to whether or not his roommate was sleeping, Sehun closed the door quietly behind himself. It was relieving, knowing Junmyeon had made it home safely, especially after the events from the night before.

Sehun shuffled across the room, kicking his shoes off and dumping his backpack into his desk chair. His voice was hardly above a whisper as he switched on the lamp at his desk. “Junmyeon? You awake?”

From underneath the mounds of blankets, Junmyeon _whimpered._

Sehun frowned worriedly as he turned to face Junmyeon’s bed. “Are you still _that_ hungover?”

When Junmyeon didn’t respond, Sehun sighed and crossed their small room to approach him. He took the hem of the blankets into one hand. “At least let me look at you so I know you’re okay. Do you want me to get you some water?”

However, when Sehun pulled back the covers, he froze at the sight of his roommate. Even in the low levels of light, Sehun could see how Junmyeon was curled up into the smallest ball he could manage, one pillow supporting his head. The other was clutched to his chest, small fingers digging into the pillowcase deeply. What bothered him the most was the fact that Junmyeon’s face was drenched from tears.

“Junmyeon?” Sehun asked, not very proud of the way he stuttered. “Hey. Look at me. What’s wrong?”

“Leave me alone,” Junmyeon mumbled, looking like he was about to cry all over again, eyes brimming with newfound tears that matched his already stained cheeks.

“I’ll leave you alone after you tell me what’s wrong,” Sehun pressed, grip tightening on the edge of the blanket. “Are you hurt?”

Junmyeon’s lower lip wobbled dangerously and the tears spilled over with no warning. “I r-ruined everything.”

“Whoa, whoa—“ Sehun started, borderline panicking as Junmyeon broke down sobbing right then and there. “Junmyeon, calm down. You didn’t ‘ruin’ anything.”

“Yes, I _did_ ,” Junmyeon nearly wailed, hiding his face in his pillow. “I ruined everything and I can’t fix it.”

Sehun was silent at first, biting down on his lower lip, as if unsure as to whether or not he should speak up. At last, he gathered his courage. “Junmyeon… Don’t panic when I ask you this, but… Did something happen between you and Kris to make you this upset?”

Junmyeon’s face suddenly turned a ghostly shade of white as he peeked at Sehun through his bangs. He was frozen, eyes open wide as tears pooled along the rims.

The look of pure fear in his eyes made Sehun partially regret even asking in the first place.

“Who told you?” Junmyeon asked, voice hoarse and quivering in terror. “Did you tell anyone?”

“No, I haven’t told anyone. No one knows except me. Regardless… Junmyeon… Don’t you remember?” Sehun began with obvious hesitance. “Do you not remember letting me use your phone to call Kris to come pick you up last night?”

Junmyeon, still locked into place upon the mattress, swallowed uncomfortably. That explained why he had woken up in Yifan’s bed.

“I…” Junmyeon started, shame roaring through his blood. His lower lip wobbled dangerously, on the cusp of erupting into a new wave of tears. “I-I can’t remember anything.”

“Hey—Hey, calm down,” Sehun babbled, clearly flustered by the emotional distress Junmyeon was exhibiting. Sehun awkwardly waved his hands in front of himself in a poor attempt of being comforting. “Junmyeon, seriously, it’s okay—“

“It isn’t okay! Don’t you get it? I can’t remember anything from last night,” Junmyeon  said, the heartbroken tone of his voice making Sehun’s insides twist. “I don’t remember what happened but apparently I did something stupid and now Yifan is hurt and angry and I—I ruined _everything—“_

“Junmyeon, you need to calm down,” Sehun interrupted, seeing how Junmyeon was beginning to grow hysterical. As his roommate quieted, Sehun took it as a chance to speak up once more. “We’ll talk about last night in a second. Now what happened with Kris to make you this upset?”

“I don’t remember what happened last night, but Yifan told me last night that I… I-I kissed someone and they took my pants off, but…” Junmyeon’s chin wrinkled as he struggled not to start crying all over again. “He got so mad at me but I don’t remember any of that. I’d never cheat, Sehun, I don’t _want_ to do something like that to him. I really like him; why would I need anyone else when I already have him?”

As Junmyeon rambled, Sehun remained silent, a troubled look in his eyes as he hefted himself up and onto the bed. Junmyeon, still curled up with his pillow, tightened his grip around it as he spilled out his troubles. At last, when Junmyeon calmed, there as a beat of stillness before Junmyeon glanced hesitantly at Sehun.

“I thought you were still mad at me,” Junmyeon said softly, eyes bloodshot. “Why are you listening and wanting to help me?”

“Just because I was angry doesn’t mean you’re not my friend anymore,” Sehun replied, legs dangling over the edge of the bed. “So this is what you were so defensive about… You’re together with Kris? Like… Together-together?”

“Yeah… He’s my boyfriend,” Junmyeon mumbled. “Or… Was. Maybe. He might dump me. I’ve never heard him that angry, and he was angry with _me_.”

“Have you two been doing this for a while?” Sehun asked softly. “Dating in secret, I mean.”

“Uh-huh. You’re the only person who knows… Aside from one of Yifan’s friends. No one is supposed to know. They _can’t_ know,” Junmyeon muttered. There was guilt in his teary eyes and a sullen expression on his face. “It’s probably weird to you, isn’t it?”

“Somewhat, yes. He’s a professor and you’re a student,” Sehun replied, “but what’s weirder to me is _why_ you’re dating him. What do you even see in him? He has nothing but bad rumors floating around about him and when I talked to him last night he nearly bit my head off. People say he’s an ass and he definitely acted like one yesterday.”

“He’s more than that. He’s much, _so_ much more than that. I know he seems cold but he really isn’t. It was a lot of work and a lot of passed time to get him to open up to me but I’m glad he did. He’s… He’s actually really sweet. He isn’t what people say he is, you know; granted, he has his moments where he can be a bit ruthless and nasty, but the same goes for everyone else in the world. People get hurt and sometimes say things or act a certain way because of that. But Yifan… He’s so much more than the rumors. He can be flirty and overdramatic and romantic and funny and the sweetest guy I’ve ever _met_ when he wants to be.” Junmyeon’s previously pale face had flushed ever-so-slightly as he spoke. “He may be older than me, but… I click with him so much better than my ex-boyfriends, and Yifan treats me so much better than they ever did. And… And now I might lose him.”

Sehun was mute, slowly absorbing the information Junmyeon fed him as he stared, expressionless, at his feet. “Do you want me to talk to him for you?”

“What?” Junmyeon asked in disbelief. “Why would you…?”

“Junmyeon, I don’t totally understand what you see in him, but if Kris makes you happy, who am I to argue about it?” Sehun asked rhetorically. “And judging by the way you’re freaking out, it’s obvious you two haven’t discussed the actual details of the situation. It’s not like you can remember them anyway. And besides, you probably _need_ help. I only talked to Kris for a few minutes last night and I can tell he’s stubborn as hell.”

“I… I just don’t want him to think I purposefully did things to hurt him. That’s the last thing I’d ever want,” Junmyeon mumbled, glancing at Sehun with hesitant eyes. “How did you figure out what happened last night? Did someone tell you?”

“I was there, Junmyeon. I didn’t see everything, but I saw enough,” Sehun responded. He paused for a second before giving Junmyeon a serious look. “I need to tell you some things. I know you don’t remember. It’s going to be a lot to take in, and I know it’s going to make you _very_ uncomfortable, but you need to know.”

Anxiety flickered to life in Junmyeon’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

“How should I put this…” Sehun murmured to himself, seeming conflicted as he ran his fingers through his bangs. “Okay, um… Well… As I’m sure you know, you were really drunk last night. You met Chanyeol, too. Do you remember that?”

Junmyeon blinked in surprise. “I met Chanyeol? I mean, Jongdae said in the other day he would introduce us at the party, but… No, I don’t remember. Did you meet him too? Was he nice?”

“Far from it. Chanyeol is dangerous, Junmyeon,” Sehun replied, watching Junmyeon’s brow furrow in confusion.

“But he’s friends with Jongdae,” Junmyeon told him, puzzled. “What exactly…?”

“Chanyeol took advantage of you. He used your weaknesses to his advantage. Your alcohol tolerance is low, especially since you’ve never gone out drinking before, and he knew it. Why else would he keep encouraging you to drink even when you were already so wasted you couldn’t stand up?” Sehun asked rhetorically, feeling the anger at the situation swelling in his stomach again. “Chanyeol got you as drunk as he could. He _wanted_ you to drunk and compliant and unable to remember anything.”

Junmyeon’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “But why? What exactly was he trying to do?”

“He… God, this is so hard.” Sehun clenched his teeth. “Chanyeol… Chanyeol tried to force you to have sex with him, Junmyeon.”

“ _What_?” Junmyeon spluttered, eyes wide, face pale, heart suddenly hammering. “But—But I—“

“I don’t know what Kris told you, but he wasn’t there. Kris didn’t see what happened and I doubt he knows all the details. Zitao and I saw it. The bastard kept having you drink and had his hands all over you. We both saw him take you upstairs.” Sehun crossed his arms, rage boiling inside of him. “He left the door to his room unlocked. He hadn’t done anything to you when we got there, not—Not like _that_ —But he had gotten your pants off. Zitao and I took care of things and got you out of there.”

Junmyeon’s mind was reeling. “I—I don’t understand, why would he—Yifan said we kissed—What did—I—“

“I didn’t see him kiss you, but I’m sure if he did, you didn’t want it. You didn’t want him near you, Junmyeon. You were telling him to stop when we got inside,” Sehun explained slowly, carefully, watching Junmyeon’s eyes fill up with tears all over again. “Like I said, he didn’t get a chance to do anything like… Like that, to you. I took you outside. He and Zitao got into a big fight and Zitao wound up punching him and then screamed at him and Jongdae for almost an hour while I met up with Kris to take you home.”

Overwhelmed, Junmyeon couldn’t stop himself from erupting into a new wave of tears. He couldn’t remember anything from that night, and now to learn he had almost been forced into such an act… It scared him, it disgusted him, it made him angry and stressed and he couldn’t stop crying.

“It isn’t your fault, Junmyeon,” Sehun told him, his voice gentle as he shuffled closer to his roommate, wrapping Junmyeon up and into his arms. Junmyeon didn’t resist in the slightest, bawling uncontrollably as he buried his face into Sehun’s chest. “You’re okay now. It’s okay.”

The facts were heavy on Junmyeon’s mind. It wasn’t like he could remember and that was what scared him the most. He couldn’t remember what Chanyeol had _tried_ to do to him. What if Sehun and Zitao hadn’t been there or noticed what was happening and hadn’t interfered? He would’ve been in an awful situation and unable to remember a single bit of it. And that thought, more than anything else, made him even more stressed and upset.

He lost track of time. Junmyeon didn’t know how long he stayed there, curled up on the bed crying into Sehun’s chest. He drifted in and out of sleep, his body still heavy and hazy from a hangover. Sehun didn’t move, letting Junmyeon cuddle him, only shifting once to fetch his phone from the depths of his pants pocket when it began to ring.

“Hello?” Sehun drawled, settling back down on the bed and resting his cheek against the top of Junmyeon’s head.

 _“Where are you? You were supposed to meet me and Jongin for lunch thirty minutes ago_ ,” the voice complained. Sehun immediately realized it was Zitao. _“If weren’t gonna show up you could have at least told us!”_

“Sorry. I lost track of time. I had to talk to Junmyeon,” Sehun murmured, draping his free arm around Junmyeon a smidge tighter.

 _“Oh, he’s home now? Did you tell him about…?”_ Zitao started, and when Sehun grunted in confirmation, Zitao sighed heavily on the other end of the line. _“I’m glad he’s okay. I haven’t heard anything from Jongdae, so I doubt he even remembers what happened yesterday. I’ll have to yell at him again, I guess.”_

“He was pretty drunk,” Sehun agreed, brow furrowed. “Just don’t throw any more punches.”

 _“No promises. By the way, speaking of violence, I did some digging. That Chanyeol bastard apparently has his own car on campus,”_ Zitao commented. _“Do you think I could slash a couple of his tires and not get caught? If that’s too much maybe I could draw some dicks on his windshield with permanent marker or something.”_

“No and no. I don’t have the money to bail you out of jail,” Sehun replied dryly, ignoring the way Junmyeon glanced at him in confusion.

 _“Alright, alright. Can’t have any fun around here,”_ Zitao complained. _“Tell you what. Jongin and I will get some stuff to-go and meet you over at Junmyeon’s. We’ll get something for you and something light for Junmyeon too.”_

“Sounds good,” Sehun murmured.

 _“Great. We’ll see you two soon,”_ Zitao told him. _“And be ready to move over when we show up because I wanna cuddle him next.”_

* * *

Sehun didn’t think that Junmyeon was accustomed to being cooed over and being showered with affection. He had grown oddly shy when Jongin and Zitao came back to the dorm, seeming unable to process that the two had just bought him snacks and were worried over him and both wanted to curl up with him on the tiny mattress. It made Sehun wonder just how much attention Junmyeon had been given in the past, because he was certain that it hadn’t been enough.

The morning’s events were a bit of a blur. Sehun could recall sitting with Jongin and Zitao in the dorm room, all three of them managing to somehow squeeze together on Junmyeon’s bed. They talked – quietly, of course, since Junmyeon still had a headache – and ate lunch. They even convinced Junmyeon to eat something small and gave him a lot of water to keep him hydrated. Junmyeon spent most of the time napping, his small body wedged between them all in an awkward twist of limbs and head lying in Zitao’s lap. It was almost ironic, is some odd way, that Junmyeon was older than all three of them, and yet there they were, taking care of _him._

But Sehun didn’t particularly mind. Junmyeon needed their help, and they were happy to give it. And one other form of assistance came in the form of a promise. It was how, later that day, Sehun found himself wandering into the art building, letting the door swing shut behind him. He had told Junmyeon that he would talk to Yifan, and that was what Sehun intended to do. Sure, the professor hadn’t been nice to him last night, but the intended discussion was not about him. It was about Junmyeon. Sehun still did not completely understand, but if Yifan and Junmyeon saw something in one another, he didn’t want to let it fade away.

After all, Sehun wasn’t blind. His roommate had changed lately. Junmyeon didn’t seem as stressed as he used to. He smiled more, even if it was directed to his phone most of the time as he sent out countless text messages. Even his eyes seemed a little brighter. Secretly being with Yifan all this time had helped mold him into something so much more and Sehun did not miss the sad, stressed boy he had used to live with.

Sehun didn’t know where Yifan’s office was. He didn’t know the setup of the art building at all, considering he had never set foot inside it until now. Thankfully he had thought ahead and had looked up Yifan’s office number on the university website before heading over to the building. It took a bit of hunting, but at long last, he found himself standing outside of Yifan’s office.

There was just one problem. The door was open, but there was no one sitting at the desk. The office was deserted.

Sehun frowned, standing there awkwardly in the doorway. It was strange. It was Yifan’s office hours but the man was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he had stepped out for a moment to use the restroom, but it seemed odd for him to leave his office door wide open and unlocked like this.

Sehun stood there for a few minutes, before he, at last, noticed something. He could see something black sticking out from the end of Yifan’s desk. Frowning, Sehun shuffled to one side to try to see what it was. It looked a lot like fabric.

At last, Sehun managed to get a better look, craning his head forward to try to peer around and over the desk. It was a blanket. A fuzzy black blanket, fanned out over the floor. And there, lying on top of it, was Yifan. The man was stretched out, lying on his side so that his back was facing Sehun. Unsure as to what was actually going on, Sehun at last dared himself to let out a cough in attempt of gaining the man’s attention.

It worked. With a grunt, Yifan’s body shifted. The professor rolled over slightly, back straight and rigid as he swiveled around enough to try to see who was standing there in his office. His trademark scowl was in place as always, unmoving as he locked eyes with Sehun. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Good to see you too, I guess,” Sehun replied, moving backwards for a second so that he could close the door. “And it’s Sehun, not ‘you’, but thanks.”

“Close enough.” Yifan just shrugged slightly in response. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

“Doing what, playing dead on your office floor?” Sehun deadpanned.

“Oh, shut up. Hard to do anything when your back hurts this bad,” Yifan grumbled, expression souring a bit further. “Now, again, what do you want? I’m not in the mood to have some kid waste my time.”

Deciding not to argue, Sehun bit his tongue and instead let out a small sigh. “Okay. Look… I need to talk to you about yesterday. About Junmyeon, more specifically.”

Yifan turned his head away, gluing his eyes to the wall instead. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Whether or not you _want_ to, you need to. I told Junmyeon I would talk to you, since you two aren’t talking to each other right now.” Sehun frowned. “Do you realize how hurt he is right now since you jumped down his throat?”

“I’ll jump down his throat if I damn well want to,” Yifan snapped back at him. He had been in a bad mood as it was from back pain and his discussion with Junmyeon earlier that morning, but the conversation at hand was making him even more uptight. “I’m allowed to be angry and I’m allowed to be hurt—“

“I never said you couldn’t be! This isn’t about you anyway! I honestly don’t _care_ how you feel right now. I get it! You’re upset because Junmyeon had a kiss with someone else last night and you think he cheated on you, but you don’t know _anything,”_ Sehun said in exasperation. “Do you really believe that Junmyeon would cheat on you? He was so drunk last night he can’t remember anything. He couldn’t even stand up. You saw him. You were around him. You know how drunk he was. Do you really think Junmyeon had the mental capacity last night to try to cheat on you?”

_“Yeokbeom, I – hic – missed you,” Junmyeon slurred, face flushed as rested his chin against Yifan’s shoulder. “I miiissed you~”_

_“Are you sure you can carry him?” Sehun asked hesitantly, standing outside in the cold. He had left Zitao and the party behind, meeting Yifan a few blocks away so that he could pick the boy up and take him home. He had fed Zitao a lie about one of Junmyeon’s friends coming to get him, and it worked out well enough so far. He had just managed to heave Junmyeon up and onto Yifan’s back, at the professor’s orders. “You look like you’re struggling a bit.”_

_“I said I can handle it,” Yifan barked. He was still wearing his sleepwear, glasses perched atop of his head. His face was dark with a scowl, not reacting to the way Junmyeon placed a wet and sloppy kiss on his cheek. Junmyeon then started giggling, hiding his face in the crook of Yifan’s neck as he mumbled out a ‘I missed you_ that _much’. “I’ll take care of him.”_

_“Yeokbeom, where are we going?” Junmyeon mumbled, squeezing his arms tightly around Yifan’s neck, nearly choking him. “Are you gonna help me? My tummy really, reallyyy hurts.”_

Yifan stayed quiet.

“Kris… Look. There are a lot of things that happened last night that you aren’t aware of. I know Junmyeon shouldn’t have been left alone. My friend was supposed to keep an eye on him last night, and he didn’t. And like I said, Junmyeon wound up really drunk. But the last thing Junmyeon would ever want, drunk or sober, would be to make you unhappy or try to leave you for someone else,” Sehun explained.

“He kissed another man,” Yifan replied stubbornly. “He has someone else’s fingerprints as bruises on his hipbone. How do you expect me _not_ to come to conclusions?”

“Regardless of what you’re thinking, you’re mistaken. Junmyeon didn’t want to be kissed. Junmyeon didn’t want to be touched. A buddy of mine and I found him with a guy that couldn’t be trusted late that night,” Sehun explained slowly. “And that’s what you don’t understand. That guy is the issue here, not Junmyeon. This isn’t Junmyeon’s fault.”

Yifan paused, eyes dark as he glanced at Sehun. “What do you mean?”

“That guy… He… He tried to take advantage of Junmyeon,” Sehun explained slowly. “He kept encouraging Junmyeon to drink. He wanted him as drunk as he could get him. My friend and I saw him take Junmyeon upstairs, and when we got inside… He had Junmyeon on his bed. He had his pants off. And Junmyeon was telling him to stop and to get off of him, but… Anyway. Like I said, this guy was trying to force Junmyeon to have sex with him. My friend and I separated the two of them and took care of everything before anything happened. But Junmyeon…definitely didn’t want of that.”

Yifan was silent. There was a change in his eyes, irises positively _burning_ in anger. As he continued to lie there on his blanket, his hands clenched, making two fists that were so tight his nails marked crescent shapes into his palms. His body was rigid, both in pain and in rage, and Sehun didn’t dare move, unsure as to what was going to happen next.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yifan at last swore, burying his face into one large hand and groaning into it. His shoulders slumped with guilt. “I didn’t… I didn’t realize it was this bad—“

“I know you didn’t. Junmyeon didn’t know either. But now that you _do_ know, it really changes the game. Doesn’t it?” Sehun asked, arching one eyebrow. “You two need to talk. Junmyeon’s still really upset over what you said to him. He’s freaking out thinking you’re going to break up with him.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Yifan muttered, one hand still cupped over his face in a combination of emotions, from anger to shame.

Sehun was silent at first, letting the situation sink in. He then spoke up once more, voice soft. “Kris… I don’t mean any disrespect when I say this, but you need to trust Junmyeon more. I don’t know what the two of you have done with each other and I don’t really _want_ to know. So as to whether or not Junmyeon has said he loves you, I don’t know, but it’s obvious that he does. Junmyeon really, _really_ loves you, Kris.”

Yifan didn’t reply. The professor wouldn’t even spare him a glance, face still hidden underneath one large hand. Taking that as a signal that Yifan no longer wanted to speak to him, Sehun swiveled on his heel, deciding that he would take his leave. He made it halfway to the door before Yifan’s voice stopped him.

“Sehun,” Yifan started, and when he turned, there was Yifan, still lying on the floor. All Sehun could see were his shoes, protruding out from one end of the desk. “Thank you.”

Sehun paused at that, blinking in disbelief at those two little words. However, after a moment, his face softened as his hand settled upon the doorknob. “Sure.”

* * *

It had been a while since Junmyeon had experienced an atmosphere this tense and awkward. He and Yifan were sitting across from each other at the man’s dining room table. Neither of them were looking at each other, gazes downcast. Junmyeon had his hands clasped together in his lap. Yifan was drumming his fingers on the table.

Neither of them knew where to start.

It was Saturday, well after noon. Yifan had texted Junmyeon late the previous night, extending a sudden but rather awkward invitation to him through their phones. _‘Would you be okay with coming over tomorrow? We need to talk’,_ it had said. It didn’t take much for Junmyeon to agree.

But now that they were here, sitting in front of each other, they didn’t know what to say.

At last, Yifan sighed a bit, shoulders slumping in defeat as he swallowed his pride and other mesh of emotions he was busy trying to hide beneath the surface of his skin. “Your friend told me what happened. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have acted the way I did if I had known. You know that, don’t you?”

“No. No, I don’t know that. You can be so unpredictable sometimes. Did _you_ know _that_?” Junmyeon challenged. Yifan didn’t answer, knowing Junmyeon had a very valid point. He kept his mouth shut and gaze downward. Junmyeon swallowed. “Yifan… Is this it? Are we…?”

“I’m not breaking up with you. I don’t _want_ to break up with you,” Yifan said quickly, a hint of panic painting his voice as he immediately looked up. “I just… I just need to talk to you. We have to talk about it, if we want to put it behind us. Look, I’m _sorry_. I didn’t know. I realize I was an ass to you over it. I didn’t mean to.”

Junmyeon’s small fingers were clinging to the edge of the wooden table as he stared down at his lap, as if he was afraid to look Yifan in the eye. “You really hurt my feelings. You immediatedly thought I did it on purpose and you were so _angry_ with me. I’ve never heard you get that mad… _Ever.”_

Yifan winced, stumbling over his words. “I felt hurt, and I lashed out at you when I shouldn’t have—“

“No,” Junmyeon interrupted, at last glancing up from his clenched hands to stare at Yifan from across the table. “Yifan… I know you felt hurt, but you completely lost it. What happened? What was going through your head to make you blow up like that? There has to be something more.”

Yifan swallowed, eyes drifting to one side. The discomfort was back, obvious as it plastered itself across Yifan’s body. “Well…”

“You’re hiding something from me,” Junmyeon said quietly. “Yifan… _Please_. You said it yourself: we need to talk about this. There’s another reason as to why you acted that way. You weren’t angry with me at all until you thought I cheated on you. Right? So what exactly is bothering you this much?”

“I did feel hurt,” Yifan then replied, unable to look Junmyeon in the face, instead gluing his eyes down onto the tabletop. “I admit that I didn’t know everything that happened at the time, but when you first told me all these things, that someone undressed you and kissed you, and seeing bruises on your skin from someone else… It hurt me. I was angry. I felt like you were just tugging me along up to that point, and it made me feel so _bad_.”

“What do you mean?” Junmyeon asked hesitantly. It felt like they were at last getting somewhere, but he could tell Yifan was growing uneasy. He was shifting his weight around nonstop in his seat, chewing on his lower lip.

“I didn’t think I was good enough for you anymore, like you found someone younger and better looking and far more perfect than I’ll ever be, even if it was just for one night. I’m not much, after all.” Yifan’s lips twisted up into a wry smile. “I know I don’t say it directly, Junmyeon, but I don’t like my time to be wasted, especially with relationships. So when I thought you were just jerking me around and then did those things with someone else… It hurt one hell of a lot. I’ve never been good enough for anyone and right then I didn’t think I was good enough for you either.”

Junmyeon frowned in confusion. “What do you mean you’ve never been good enough? Yifan, you’re _plenty—“_

“Don’t. I know it for a fact that I’ve never been good enough for anyone,” Yifan interrupted, turning his head away. Junmyeon did not miss the sad glow in his eyes. “I didn’t think now would be any different.”

_“You want to be an art major? Fine, go ahead! You’re more than welcome to be broke for the rest of your life and be jobless,” his mother snarled._

_His father rolled his eyes. “You’re making a mistake. What a waste of time and energy, Yifan.”_

_“Don’t bother coming home,” they said. “I don’t want to see you.”_

Junmyeon’s frown deepened. “Not good enough for who?”

_“If you want my opinion,” his advisor started, clicking her pen wildly and obnoxiously as Yifan squirmed nervously in the uncomfortable chair across from her desk, “I would switch my major back to whatever you had before art. This isn’t your game.”_

_“You call yourself an art major?” his professor asked, giving Yifan a disbelieving stare. Yifan suddenly felt very small underneath his gaze as he stood there inside of the man’s office, clutching his painting tightly as he shrank down inside of his hoodie. “My daughter can paint better than you can, and she’s in elementary school.”_

_“You seriously switched from business?” one of the girls in his lecture asked, laughing obnoxiously loud, seeming amused in the way Yifan’s cheeks flushed in shame. “You should’ve stayed over there. It’s not like you have the talent to compete with any of us.”_

Yifan swallowed, hands clenched in his lap.

_“C’mon, Kris, it isn’t that big of a deal, is it?” Luhan started, pouting as he stole a glance at his friend. “Look, I said I was sorry! Next time we go somewhere, I’ll make sure to invite you. Okay? You make it sound like I left you out of the group on purpose or something. Don’t be so overdramatic about it. You can handle one night by yourself anyway.”_

_“I can’t believe someone like him is still even teaching,” a boy drawled. “He’s the worst professor I’ve ever had in my entire life. The university would be better off without him.”_

_“You heard about what happened, right? Kris got in an accident,” someone whispered. They laughed. Yifan felt the chill of their words run down his aching spine. “Too bad EMT got there when they did, eh? A few more minutes and maybe he wouldn’t have ever come back.”_

Yifan sucked in a shaky breath.

_“I don’t get it. I don’t know what I did,” Yifan started, bawling hysterically as Luhan smoothed a hand over his back. Yifan was a large person, but right then, sitting on his puny dorm room bed, he felt like nothing more than a tiny child, crying his eyes out. “Why would he do this to me?”_

_“Sometimes people fall out of love, you know,” Luhan said calmly, “just like how they fell into it.”_

_“Just because he didn’t love me anymore doesn’t mean he had the right to do this to me!” Yifan nearly screamed, bursting into a new wave of tears as he bowed his head, sobbing uncontrollably. “I loved him and he knew that. Why did he just throw me away? I tried so hard to make him happy. Was he so miserable with me that he had to go and sleep with someone else?”_

“For everyone,” Yifan repeated at last, unable to hide the shame from his voice as he kept his eyes downcast. “I’ve never been good enough for anyone, Junmyeon, and I figured I wasn’t good enough for you either.”

“You should’ve known better than to think that about me,” Junmyeon replied stubbornly, frowning as he unconsciously reached across the small table. Yifan glanced up to find one of his small hands resting atop of the wood. When he looked over at Junmyeon, the boy was staring back at him with a serious expression. “Do you really think I would stay with you if you weren’t good enough for me? Yifan, my ex-boyfriends were awful, and you know it. Two times was bad enough. I wouldn’t want to go through anything like that again. You make me happy, Yifan. I wouldn’t dream of doing something like that to hurt you, and like I said, if you weren’t good enough, we wouldn’t have made it this far.”

Yifan’s shoulders slumped unhappily. “But why would you want some pathetic old man for a boyfriend?”

“You aren’t pathetic. And you aren’t old either,” Junmyeon murmured. “Yifan, look at me. I’ve never cared about your age. I’ve only cared about _you_ , and you may be flawed, but I still like you for _you.”_

Yifan’s eyes rolled upward. “Do you really mean that?”

“Why would I lie to you?” Junmyeon asked rhetorically, eyes serious but corners of his mouth twitching. “When have I _ever_ lied to you?”

Yifan remained silent for a long moment. He stared at Junmyeon for a second, eyes calculating and insecure and unsure. At last, he glanced down at Junmyeon’s hand, which was still resting innocently atop of the table.

Although hesitant and moving slowly, Yifan reached out with one hand and brought it up to the tabletop as well, gently letting his palm cover the back of Junmyeon’s own hand.

Despite the weight of the situation, Junmyeon couldn’t help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 18 Dec 2016


	21. Sketch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ SKETCH ]_
> 
> _a rough or unfinished version of any creative work, often made to assist in the completion of a more finished work_

_“I’ve never been a really…avid, I guess is the word I’m looking for here…dater anyway. I don’t have a lengthy list of exes,” Yifan admitted quietly. The two of them were still sitting at the dining room table, working on ironing out the remaining issues at hand. “I’ve never been interested in flings and if I decide that I want to be with someone, then I stick with what I want. I understand that people can grow apart and things don’t always work out in the end, but…love also means compromise, and not just being there when things are easy.”_

_“You take your relationships very seriously,” Junmyeon began softly from across the table, “don’t you?”_

_“Of course. I take it seriously and I can only hope the other party sees it the same way. I hate being tugged along, Junmyeon. I hate being played. Loyalty is a big thing for me. Relationships take so much time, effort, emotional input, and trust…” Yifan quieted for a second before he sighed. “The last thing I want is to realize much too late is that I put in so much, all for nothing, for someone who doesn’t really love me.”_

_“Is that why you were so angry with me?” Junmyeon asked hesitantly. “You thought I was just leading you on?”_

_“Wouldn’t you be angry too? I’m aware of the fact that I jumped to conclusions much too quickly, but… At the time, yes, I did think you had cheated on me. And that just… It hurt_ badly _. I started wondering if I was just wasting all my time and energy and all else on you,” Yifan admitted. “I began to wonder if it was going to be a repeat of before.”_

_“What do you mean?” Junmyeon inquired, voice soft, as if unsure if he was treading into waters too deep for him. “Before what?”_

_Yifan, however, stayed silent, eyes glued to the wood of the table._

_“Yifan…” Junmyeon murmured, eyebrows upturning in worry. “You need to talk to me. I’m not trying to pressure you and I’m not going to judge you. I can’t help unless you let me, and I can’t stop us from having an argument like this again unless I know what sets you off.”_

_Yifan didn’t reply at first, and Junmyeon initially didn’t think he was going to receive an answer to all his questions. But, after what felt like an eternity, Yifan’s chest rose and fell in a sharp breath of air as he kept his gaze downcast._

_“I’ve had this happen before,” Yifan told him, speech so soft Junmyeon almost missed what he said. “It’s an awful feeling, Junmyeon, to be cheated on.”_

_Junmyeon’s cheeks paled. “Someone really cheated on you?”_

_“Yeah. I know it was long ago – I was your age, after all – but those things have the tendency to stick with you.” Yifan scrubbed palm across his face in a mixture of frustration and sadness. “I’ve tried to let it go and I don’t think about it much anymore, but it’s just something that’s always there in the back of your mind, especially when you start dating again. So when I thought this was happening a second time, that another relationship that I treasure was going to turn out like that one…of course I grew angry, and of course I was hurt. It was bad enough the first time.”_

_“Yifan… Listen to me. I wouldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t_ ever _do that to you,” Junmyeon said, eyebrows pinching together worriedly. “I have you. I don’t want anyone else, or need anyone else. You’re enough for me. Do you really think I’d stick around or take all these risks for us to be together if I didn’t care about you?”_

 _“I jumped to conclusions,” Yifan told him, eyes on his clasped hands. “And I should have known better than to do something like that. I know an apology won’t take it back, but I_ am _sorry. I just… I just don’t like to share. I don’t. It’s selfish, perhaps, maybe jealousy, but whatever you want to call it, I don’t want anyone else near you, not like that.”_

_Junmyeon blinked, tilting his head ever-so-slightly to one side. “What do you mean by that?”_

_“What I mean is that you’re_ my _boyfriend._ No one _is allowed to put their hands on you.” Yifan abruptly growled at him. His voice was rising, obvious anger lacing his words. “No one is allowed to touch you, no one is allowed to kiss you, and_ no one _is allowed to fuck you! You’re_ my _boyfriend, Junmyeon, and I don’t want_ anyone _going near you for those reasons, do you understand me?”_

_Junmyeon’s mouth felt abnormally dry all of a sudden and he couldn’t control the way he stuttered as he spoke. “Y-Yes.”_

_“Good. You’re_ my _boyfriend, not anyone else’s, and I don’t like to share.” Yifan’s eyes were gridlocked onto him now, glazed over and dark. His unmoving stare made Junmyeon feel bare down to his very bones, and although he didn’t know why, a cold yet odd tingle ran up the base of his spine. “You’re_ mine _, Junmyeon.”_

Lying on his bed, Junmyeon couldn’t stop replaying the conversation between him and Yifan over and over again in his mind, even though it had been what felt like ages ago. Staring at the ceiling, it was like he could still hear Yifan rumbling out those words to him, possessive and demanding, and even now, the mere memory cast the same effect upon him as it had earlier. As it ran on repeat over and over again in the back of his brain as he stared up at the ceiling, Junmyeon could feel that familiar tingling sensation running up his spine, an odd itch slowly burning into his skin as his lips twitched into a wobbly line.

“Why is it so hot in here?” Junmyeon asked, rolling over so that he could glance at Sehun. His roommate was perched at his desk, typing away on his laptop to try to create a dent in a report he was working on for one of his classes. At Junmyeon’s abrupt question, Sehun paused in his work, swiveling around in his chair to face Junmyeon as he frowned. Junmyeon, sprawled out on one side, furrowed his eyebrows. “It’s hot in here to you too, right?”

“No…?” Sehun began, confusion lining his voice as he cocked one eyebrow. As if to emphasis his response, he gripped his hoodie near the zipper with one hand, shaking it a little. “I’m actually cold. Why do you think I still have my jacket on? You must be having a hot flash or something.”

Sehun turned back around then, filling the air of their dorm room with small taps as he went back to typing his report. It left Junmyeon alone with his thoughts, and, somehow or another, it wasn’t very comforting. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He still felt hot, even after their conversation ended, but it didn’t quite make sense to him. Junmyeon never had issues with hot flashes before, and it wasn’t really logical for them to start this suddenly. He frowned. He didn’t start feeling this way until he had started thinking about what Yifan had said to him.

Something clicked in his head and Junmyeon froze, going stock-still as he stared, wide-eyed, at the plain ceiling above.

Junmyeon bolted upright, sheets crinkling loudly beneath him, and Sehun once more turned around to give him a quizzical stare. The two merely stared at each other for a moment, confused eyes meeting panicked ones.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Junmyeon finally blurted out.

Sehun’s left eyebrow arched a little higher as he watched Junmyeon scramble off of his bed and head for the door. “Okay…? See you soon then.”

As Junmyeon scurried out of the room, noisily closing the door behind him, Sehun merely shook his head as he cast his gaze back down onto his laptop. Junmyeon was definitely odd.

 And while Sehun found his roommate odd, Junmyeon, who was practically tumbling down the hallway with his towel in one hand and his shower caddy in the other, found the situation itself strange. He tried to focus his attention on anything else other than the heat that had settled in the pores of his skin, like the beat of his heart, the pace of his footfalls against the hallway floor, _anything_ , but it was as if no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore how hot he felt, and he definitely couldn’t ignore the weight of the situation pressing down on his mind.

Sure, Junmyeon was a bit dense when it came to relationships, and he didn’t have any shame in admitting that. It was the truth after all. And if anyone knew just how awkward he and Yifan had been while trying to come to a conclusion as to whether or not they should date, they would agree.

He let out a frustrated sigh as he entered the bathroom. He hadn’t started feeling like this until he mulled over everything Yifan had said. There was something about it, _something_ tied to those words that made his body react this way. And yet, he didn’t think it was Yifan’s tone specifically. Junmyeon had heard a variety of emotions painting Yifan’s voice so far and this was merely another one added to the list. It was more so the words themselves that made him feel so weird.

Yifan was the possessive type, that was for sure. It wasn’t like it made him afraid. After all, Yifan never tried to hog him all to himself or stop him from going out or from seeing his friends or from living his life. And although it didn’t make him feel fear, it definitely made him feel _something._

As he patiently waited for the water to warm, a thought hit him: did he actually like it?

His exes had never viewed him nor their relationship like Yifan did. It was a violent change of pace, and as he mulled it over, Junmyeon slowly came to the realization that maybe he _did_ enjoy Yifan showing this selfish, hovering type of attitude. Junmyeon had grown so accustomed to being in second place over the course of his lifetime that suddenly being the star of the show for _anyone_ was a wild experience on its own. And for Yifan, Junmyeon was apparently _always_ the center of his world. Just thinking about that made him shiver, and he knew it wasn’t due to the way he was beginning to shed his clothes.

Maybe that was why he felt this way. Perhaps thinking about Yifan snarling that he didn’t want Junmyeon to get too comfortable with anyone else, that certain acts were reserved only between the two of them, while simultaneously showing off a dominant and possessive demeanor Junmyeon didn’t even know Yifan _had_ , was the entire reason behind all this. Just calling the memory back to him was enough to make him shudder, his skin almost instantly warming, mind growing hazy. The facts were hard to absorb, but they were there, and although Junmyeon was not the most experienced with the field of romance, this was not hard to figure out.

Feeling ridiculously warm, even as he ducked under the spray of cold water, Junmyeon swallowed as he glued his eyes onto the shower wall, knowing perfectly well now that _yes_ , he did like it.

* * *

Junmyeon slowly fell back into his routine. The bulleted list of tasks returned, spelling out a to-do list of things to accomplish that Junmyeon had grown used to since starting school again. Classes, homework, projects, late nights, and cramming. Since midterms approaching fast, with only two weeks to go, both he and Yifan had been limited on their face-to-face contact lately. It was the texting sessions that were a breath of fresh air in his repetitive life. Phone calls between the two of them were rare, but always appreciated on Junmyeon’s part. Yifan wasn’t a big fan of chatting on the phone, and it was difficult for Junmyeon to do so, considering his schedule, and that he had a roommate. But every now again, the cards lined up perfectly, and Junmyeon found himself curled up in his bed, laughing softly in dim light as they told each other bad jokes and smiling, love-struck, when Yifan whispered in his ear that he couldn’t wait to see him again. Their argument had blown over, and life was finally starting to feel normal again.

Well, almost.

Tuesday initially felt just like any old ordinary day. He attended his lectures, he ate, he ducked quietly into Yifan’s office during his break to chat and exchange a few small kisses. Sure, all of that was normal, and there wasn’t anything odd about the way Junmyeon was holed up inside of Zitao’s and Jongin’s shared dorm room later that evening. Sehun had joined him as well, and there they were, all four of them sprawled out atop of some blankets that had been strewn across the cold floor. They had been studying together, trying to help each other out for their midterms, and had taken a small break at the moment to eat and goof around. The four of them were halfway through a stage of a racing game, thanks to Jongin’s old game system nestled atop of his cabinet, takeout boxes littering the ground around them. That was when there was a knock on the door, and when the day became a little less ordinary.

Game paused, the remaining trio of boys let their gazes curiously follow Jongin as he went to answer the door. Of all the people in the world, Junmyeon hadn’t been expecting for Jongdae to be on the other side.

“Oh, good! Junmyeon, you’re here,” Jongdae exclaimed, not even bothering to say hello as he scurried into the dorm room, and right past Jongin, who was still standing there holding the door open. “I went by your place a few minutes ago and you guys weren’t home so I was hoping you would be here.”

“Please, come in,” Jongin commented dryly, closing the door then as he let out a sigh. Heading back to his spot on the floor, Jongin picked up his takeout container and gave Jongdae a warning look. “And don’t step on any of our blankets with your shoes while you’re here. We just washed these.”

“Why were you looking for me?” Junmyeon asked then, head tilting quizzically to one side as he cradled his own takeout box in his hands.

“Okay, so, I know the party went badly. I knew that Chanyeol was interested in you, but I never would have thought he would try something like…well, what he tried to do,” Jongdae babbled then, earning two cocked eyebrows, one from Sehun and one from Jongin, along with the lips of Zitao now being pressed into a tight line. “We got into a big argument and everything after all that’s happened and we aren’t talking anymore. I don’t think we ever will again, to be honest. But, regardless, I just wanted to meet you face to face to tell you I’m sorry for how I acted on Thursday. I should have known better.”

Junmyeon’s gaze lowered on reflex, missing how all of the others in the room were now staring at him, waiting for him to reply. He took a second to think about it, licking his lips in thought before at last glancing back up at Jongdae. “Well… I know that you didn’t intend for all of those things to happen. I don’t think it was really your fault, so… I guess it’s oka—“

“Wait a minute,” Zitao interrupted then, successfully silencing Junmyeon as he gave the older boy a look of disbelief. “You’re forgiving him, just like that? Junmyeon, what the _hell?”_

Junmyeon didn’t seem to understand, eyes blinking open wider with confusion and alarm as he clutched his takeout box a bit tighter. “What do you mean? Zitao, it wasn’t Jongdae’s fault—“

“Jongdae didn’t force Chanyeol to do anything to you, sure, I get that, but this _is_ at least partially his fault. Jongdae was the one who wanted you to go to that stupid party to begin with,” Zitao argued, the volume of his words increasing slowly but surely. “He invited you, and then he didn’t even keep an eye on you like he was supposed to! So he left you alone, with one of his ‘friends’, and then that same guy got you wasted and then tried to take advantage of you! So no, Junmyeon, regardless of your argument, this _does_ fall on his shoulders, even if it’s just a small chunk of it.”

Jongdae winced, rooted in place as he awkwardly rubbed a hand down his forearm. “Guys, I didn’t mean it that way. I literally didn’t know Chanyeol would do something like that. I know I should have kept an eye on Junmyeon but the fact is I didn’t and what’s done is done.”

“No, the fact _is_ that you’re a shitty friend,” Zitao spat, folding his arms stubbornly over his chest. “Case closed.”

“Zitao!” Junmyeon gasped out, giving his friend a disbelieving swat on the bicep. “Don’t say something like that!”

“I’ll say whatever the hell I want, especially when it’s the truth! Face it, Junmyeon, Jongdae isn’t a good friend! He was supposed to look out for you and at the end of the day, he didn’t!” Zitao then whirled his head to one side to give Jongdae a furious stare. “And if you wanna stand here and talk ‘facts’, then here’s one: you may not have known Chanyeol was up to something, but you’re still the one that introduced him to Junmyeon, and _you’re_ the one that didn’t keep an eye on the two of them. You were careless, and your negligence nearly created a clusterfuck of problems.”

Jongdae threw his hands into the air in frustration. “This isn’t even about you! Why are you the one getting so bent out of shape right now?! And I _said_ I was sorry, so I don’t know what else you expect for me to do!”

“It has plenty to do with me, because Junmyeon is my _friend_ , and although I don’t say it enough, I do care about him a damn lot. So I’ll be mad if I wanna be, and you don’t have any right to stand here and tell me to butt out,” Zitao yelled back. “Junmyeon doesn’t understand how to stick up for himself, alright?! He doesn’t have a backbone and he’s too damn nice for his own good! Your carelessness nearly ruined his life and he just sat right here and forgave you for it without a second thought! He’s too kind and even if Junmyeon doesn’t know how to hold a grudge, _I_ do! So if Junmyeon isn’t going to sit around and be angry and refuse to forgive you, then I’ll take his place, because there’s no way in hell you should be getting your apology accepted this easily.”

Junmyeon’s eyebrows upturned worriedly as he clung to the teen’s sleeve. “Zitao…”

“Look, if you and Junmyeon want to continue being friends, then by all means be my guest. I’m not his parent and I’m not going to sit here and claim to be. He can hang out with whoever he wants. And if you wanna be friends with Sehun and Jongin and Yixing and whoever-the-hell-else, then again, be my guest. But I’m not going to sit here and pretend to like you, and I’m not going to act like this whole thing doesn’t bother me. I’ll tolerate your presence, but I’m not your friend, and I’m not going to fake being nice to you,” Zitao continued, easily ignoring Junmyeon. “I already told you this at the party, but you were probably so drunk you don’t even remember it. So I’ll say it again: I don’t want anything to do with you. If I find out you let Chanyeol get anywhere _near_ Junmyeon again, I’m going to kill him, and then I’m going to kill you after I’m done. Got it? Now get the fuck out of my room.”

Dead silence filled the air then. Everyone, dumbfounded, stared at Zitao in shock, unable to even speak. Even Jongdae was silent, standing there like a statue for a long moment as his brain struggled to process everything that had just happened. At last, he forced himself to move, dumbly swiveling on his heel and heading for the door. The others were quiet as Jongdae merely opened it before stepping out into the hall, closing the door behind himself on the way out.

“Wow,” Sehun then commented, the surprise at last managing to wear off enough for him to speak up. “You really let him have it.”

“Good riddance. Like I said, I’m not his friend. He deserves to be chewed out for what he did,” Zitao grumbled, picking up his food and shoveling another bite into his mouth. He then glanced over at Junmyeon, furrowing his eyebrows in frustration. “I can’t believe you forgave him so easily.”

“I…” Junmyeon began, trailing off as he failed to find the words to properly explain himself. He weakly shrugged his shoulders instead. “I just…”

“You never stand up for yourself,” Zitao continued, running him right over, and Junmyeon shrank down inside of his hoodie, feeling suddenly ashamed. “Ever. Even after this mess of a party, you still aren’t standing up for yourself. Why? Why don’t you ever try to put your foot down against people that have treated you wrongly, Junmyeon?”

“I don’t know,” Junmyeon mumbled, his voice uncertain and very small. “I don’t know why.”

“Then what is it going to take for you to finally stick up for yourself? What is it going to take for you to get angry, get nasty, to finally stand up for yourself and tell someone off?” Zitao asked rhetorically, frowning as he reached out to wrangle Junmyeon up into a one-armed hug. “Look at me. I’m not trying to be an ass to you. I’m asking you all of this as your friend and because I’m worried about you. You need to stand up for yourself, Junmyeon. You’re worth more than you think you are, and you need to _make_ people realize that about you. You aren’t a doormat. Don’t let people walk all over you.”

Junmyeon swallowed, feeling small and ashamed as he sank down against Zitao’s side. Unable to get his vocal cords to cooperate, Junmyeon merely nodded in response.

* * *

“That could have turned out so much worse,” Luhan said, carefully watching Yifan’s expression as he pressed downward on one of the man’s knees. He went slowly, waiting, and the moment Yifan’s face twisted up in pain and discomfort, Luhan stopped pushing. “I’m glad he’s alright.”

“So am— _fuck_ —“ Yifan swore, hands clenching into tight fists as Luhan pushed a little too far. Relief ran through his body when the other let up a bit. “S-So am I. I was really worried about him.”

Luhan hummed. Yifan had given him all the details of the party, and unfortunately, Yifan’s inkling about something being out of the ordinary had been correct. It was frightening to hear what had happened – and the dark events that had _nearly_ happened – but Luhan was very relieved to hear that things hadn’t turned out much worse. He and Yifan were presently holed up in the man’s office, with Yifan sprawled on his back, right atop of the fuzzy black blanket that he had been laying on when Sehun came into the room. Luhan was perched on his knees, trying his best to help Yifan stretch the muscles in his lower back. Luhan was far from a physical therapist, but Yifan said the technique helped manage the pain, so he wasn’t going to argue. It was a bit awkward though. He had to try to help Yifan keep his shoulders flat on the floor while also helping direct his legs and push down on his knee. If Luhan was pushing on his right one, he had to move Yifan’s leg upwards a bit so that it could cross across his torso, bent at the knee, before pressing down on it. If it was the left, he went across his torso the other way. It was awkward and a lot of work to ensure it was done properly, but it seemed to be helping a bit. That was all that mattered.

“You must have really hurt yourself carrying Junmyeon home the way you did,” Luhan then commented, pursing his lips as he let up on Yifan’s leg. Yifan’s face was twisted with pain, eyes scrunched shut, as he slowly uncrossed his leg and lowered it to the floor, exhaling heavily and loudly in the process.

“What did you expect me to do?” Yifan asked, eyes squinting open just enough to see a glimpse of Luhan’s face. “I couldn’t just leave him there, and I couldn’t take my motorcycle. He would’ve fallen right off of it.”

“Call me next time or something. You know I have a car,” Luhan said dryly.

“I don’t want there to be a next time,” Yifan argued, brow knitted in discomfort as he stretched his leg out a bit more. Luhan could see how his hands were still tightly clutching at the blanket he was sprawled out upon, fingers digging deep into the fabric.

Luhan just sighed. “I can understand that. But Kris, seriously, I think you really hurt yourself. I know you always have back pain but this is the first time you’ve _ever_ asked me to come over to help you stretch. And we’re still on campus. You must have been desperate.”

“Of course I’m desperate. It _hurts_ ,” Yifan nearly snarled at him, struggling for a second before he managed to roll over and onto his side. “I mean, yeah, it was really bothering me after I carried Junmyeon home, but the pain comes and goes. I probably did something lugging him home, but it doesn’t make sense why the pain just spikes whenever the hell it feels like it. It always hurts, and I can usually tolerate it, but now if I walk wrong or twist wrong it makes it even worse and I wind up like… Like… Like _this.”_

“You need to see a doctor,” Luhan told him, face unemotional, even as Yifan gave him a rather dirty glare. “Don’t look at me like that. You do, and you know it.”

“I’m not going to see a doctor,” Yifan replied stubbornly, nails digging tightly into his own palms as he tried – and failed – to sit up.

“You _need_ to. Your baseline of pain is already pretty high as it is, and now you’re having some really bad pain spikes lately. Something was wrong before, but it’s obvious there’s definitely something wrong now,” Luhan commented, reaching out and grabbing one of Yifan’s hands to help heave him upright. Yifan instantly hunched over, as if trying to take some of the stress off his back. “Kris, seriously, are you trying to kill yourself? How much longer are you going to let this go on? Do you _want_ to stay miserable for the rest of your life?”

“Maybe,” Yifan practically hissed at him, growing defensive in a heartbeat.

“You’re an idiot. There’s something severely wrong with you, and we both know it, _and_ we both know you need to see a doctor. That’s obvious. You’re a grown man and you should know better, you should know plenty well by now that you need to take care of your body, especially since you already had injuries in the past,” Luhan told him, frowning. “Why won’t you go? A doctor can _help_ you, Kris, so why won’t you just let them?”

“That’s none of your business,” Yifan snapped, “I asked you to come over to help me stretch, not to nag me like you’re my mother.”

“I’m nagging you because I’m your friend and I’m worried about you. Kris, you _need_ treatment. It might get even worse if you let this go untreated,” Luhan continued, but Yifan ignored him, clutching the corner of his desk for support as he tried to stand up. “At what point are you going to finally give in and go? Are you going to wait until it gets so bad you can’t even get out of bed by yourself to finally throw in the towel?”

“Will you shut the hell up?! I know I should get it looked at, okay, but you standing here nagging me half to death isn’t going to make me go!” Yifan shouted, patience completely dried up. He at last managed to heave himself up onto shaky legs, clinging to his desk for a brief moment to maintain his balance, as his legs were unsteady from the stretches. “I’m a grown man and if I don’t wanna go then I don’t wanna go and you can’t make me.”

“If I can’t make you go, and you want me to quit nagging you, then why don’t you explain to me why you don’t want to go,” Luhan said simply, crossing his arms across his chest.

Yifan hesitated before turning his head to one side. “Because I don’t want to.”

“An actual reason, Kris, not some excuse,” Luhan replied dryly, facial expression unimpressed and unmoving as he held his arms in place. When Yifan made no move to reply, Luhan huffed, growing frustrated himself. “What is the _matter_ with you? Is this just another one of your drama queen moves?”

“I’m not a drama queen,” Yifan snarled at him, still refusing to make eye contact. “I’m not going because I don’t want to.”

“There’s another reason and we both know that,” Luhan countered, frown deepening. “What is it, Kris? What the hell are you so scared of?”

He meant it to be rhetorical, but when Yifan stayed dead silent, Luhan suddenly realized that he had hit the nail right on the head. Fear.

“You’re scared?” Luhan then started, voice almost uncertain, and he watched Yifan’s entire body stiffen at those words. “Kris, what in the _world?_ You’re thirty-one years old and you’re scared to go to the doctor?”

“I’m not scared of the doctor. I’m not a child,” Yifan argued stubbornly, still not looking at Luhan as he slowly sank down into his desk chair.

It wasn’t like him, Luhan absently noted to himself, seeing Yifan this way. Yifan had shed his quiet, hesitant shell years ago, and had no issues nowadays saying something right to someone’s face. But right now, he seemed too unsure of himself to speak, as if he was desperately trying to keep a secret hidden beneath the surface.

“Then what are you scared of?” Luhan asked him hesitantly, but in a way, he already knew that Yifan wasn’t going to give him a direct answer. The art professor had just built up too many walls over the years and did not trust him enough anymore to discuss such things with him.

“It’s nothing,” Yifan told him, tinkering with his phone now, thumbs moving in quick taps as he compiled a new text, one that Luhan already knew was going to be sent to Junmyeon. “Nothing that you need to be concerned about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 11 Jan 2017


	22. Stain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ STAIN ]_
> 
> _in artistic contexts, paint thinned by a considerable amount of solvent_

Yifan was much more sensitive than he appeared to be. Junmyeon had already seen blips of that characteristic of his personality since the two of them had started dating. Yifan always tried to keep an appearance of apathy. Junmyeon could easily remember the lectures that had occurred before he and Yifan began trying to get to know each other better, where Yifan’s facial expression never budged and his vocabulary was small and composed of an assortment of uninterested grunts and hums.

Now that they had seen a wider range of each other’s emotions and personalities, Junmyeon knew plenty well that Yifan was much more animated than he appeared. Yifan had the same range of feelings and expressions as everyone else. Sensitivity was just another chunk of him; certain comments could get underneath his skin in a heartbeat.

But all of that belonged to the category of mental and emotional sensitivity, just a window to Yifan’s mind and heart. And although he didn’t show it, Yifan was also, apparently, sensitive in the physical aspect. It had just taken Junmyeon until now to realize it.

He and Yifan were still limited on their physical contact. Perhaps that was why Junmyeon had not noticed it until now. But now that he _had_ picked up on it, Junmyeon couldn’t stop thinking about it.

There had been the times where Yifan held his hand, even in public, threading his fingers through the notches of Junmyeon’s own and holding on tightly, as if trying to prove that he wasn’t going anywhere. The times Yifan greedily kissed him, not wanting to stop, claiming Junmyeon’s mouth all for himself. The times they hugged and Yifan’s arms caged around him, warm and strong and squeezing him like he never wanted to let Junmyeon go.

And there had been that time where Junmyeon had been perched on the man’s lap and had yanked his hair a little too hard and had unintentionally set off a chain reaction of arousal that left Yifan grinding on him. That, however, was something Junmyeon tried not to think about. The lingering embarrassment over the way he had started crying was just too much most days.

But if there was one thing Junmyeon had realized, it was that Yifan was extremely receptive to touch, and that he practically thrived on it.

And that epiphany was only confirmed as Junmyeon found himself kneeling on Yifan’s living room floor, kneading his fingers and palms into Yifan’s back, and feeling the man dissolve into complete and utter _putty_ under his touch. It reminded Junmyeon of the last time they had done this, massaging Yifan’s back for him worriedly as Yifan practically melted into the floor in pure bliss as Junmyeon helped smooth away the knots of tension and the stabs of pain.

“Is something bothering you?” Junmyeon asked hesitantly, working his hands over a portion of deltoid muscle. Yifan twitched in response, tensing momentarily before immediately relaxing when Junmyeon dug in harder, trying to unravel a rather large knot he could feel beneath the skin. “I know your lower back hurts a lot but your upper back is… Well… It’s a mess.”

“I guess I’m stressed,” Yifan mumbled in response, voice muffled against the couch cushion that was tucked beneath his chin. “Midterms start on Monday.”

Junmyeon raised an eyebrow. He was plenty aware that midterms were here; after all, he and every other student on campus were on the brink of panicking as they tried to cram for exams. But Yifan was not a student, and Yifan did not have to take exams.

“Why would you be stressed about midterms?” Junmyeon asked. “You don’t have to take them.”

“I still have plenty to do,” Yifan grumbled, large fingers clutching handfuls of the cushion. “Portfolio reviews for printmaking is this week. Portfolio reviews for intro to painting is next week. And since this is midterm week, I need to finish some last minute adjustments for the art appreciation exam and some things for my online class—“

“You have an online class?” Junmyeon interrupted, curiosity both plastered across his face and filling his voice as he temporarily paused in massaging Yifan’s back.

“Yeah. Art history, and I hate it. Regardless, since it’s online, it’s one of those self-sufficient classes. I don’t make them attend a mandatory lecture on certain days or anything. It’s just one of those ‘read the book and whatever materials I post on the forum’ classes.” Yifan sighed. “They have some assignments and some exams like everyone else, but that’s about it. It’s not a hard class since it’s introductory level, after all. But I haven’t even compiled their midterm yet, so I need to get that done too.”

Junmyeon frowned as he massaged his fingertips into the base of Yifan’s neck. “You really do sound busy.”

“I told you… People think being a professor is a walk in the park, but it can be really draining and really stressful. Make exams, portfolio reviews, grading, lectures, department meetings, open office hours, you name it.” Yifan’s eyes were closed as he sighed softly through his nose, grip loosening as he buried his face into the pillow just a little more. “Then I have things in my personal life to work on and projects of my own that have deadlines.”

“Why do you have deadlines for your paintings?” Junmyeon asked, confusion plastered across his face.

“Not all of them. But some of them, yes, I have deadlines,” Yifan continued softly, eyes still shut and lips parted as he let out a rather pathetic whimpering noise as Junmyeon began to bear down on a knot near the center of his upper back.

“I don’t get it. Are you participating in something?” Junmyeon questioned. When Yifan nodded in response, Junmyeon’s eyes lit up immediately. “Like an exhibition?”

“It depends, really. Sometimes it’s just things like an art show, but sometimes things are a little more competitive because every now and again attendees are interested in making a purchase,” Yifan explained patiently.

“Like… Buy paintings?” Junmyeon continued. Yifan merely hummed, and, cast on his stomach, he was blind to how Junmyeon’s lips spread into an enormous smile. “That’s so cool! How many paintings have you sold so far?”

To his surprise, Yifan released an unamused snort at that question. “Zero.”

“None?” Junmyeon deadpanned, hands now motionless. “What do you mean none? Your paintings are good, Yifan—“

“Good or not, they aren’t good enough,” Yifan interrupted dryly. “There are tons of people out there who are better than I am and I’ll never catch up to them if I stop now.”

Junmyeon could always tell when he was pushing a topic too hard. Yifan’s attitude began to shift during those moments, tone growing bitter, expressions becoming less amused, his body language practically screaming tension. And Junmyeon could see it all now too, listening to the clipped state of Yifan’s speech and feeling his body stiffening underneath his hands.

But for once, even though he knew he could potentially set off an awful series of chain reactions, Junmyeon did not want to stop pushing.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Junmyeon then said quietly, gently rubbing his hands atop of Yifan’s back. There wasn’t enough pressure, merely a touch of skin against skin, and Junmyeon knew he was being hypocritical. He was his own worst critic. But it felt different, listening to Yifan knock himself down several pegs at a time. It bothered him. “You’re good at what you do, Yifan. Your paintings are _beautiful._ You need to have more confidence in yourself. You’re very talented.”

“There’s no such thing as talent. You only become better at a certain skill through hard work,” Yifan commented, voice and body tense. “There’s no reason I should be proud of myself when I still have such a long way to go. Being realistic stops me from being even more of a fuck-up than I am already.”

Junmyeon frowned. Yifan spat those words at him with such venom despite the way his face was buried into the pillow. Concern prickled to life in Junmyeon’s chest. “Yifan, don’t talk about yourself like that.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Yifan grumbled. “It’s the truth.”

“No, it isn’t, and I don’t want to hear you saying things like that anymore. You’re worrying me,” Junmyeon said softly. Yifan didn’t respond, and all Junmyeon could do was sigh a little. “Look… Hearing things like that come out of your mouth really bothers me. I really care about you, and you know that. Nothing good ever comes out of beating yourself down like that.”

“That’s like the pot calling the kettle black,” Yifan deadpanned.

“I know it’s hypocritical. You don’t have to tell me. But it’s different with you,” Junmyeon murmured, somewhat struggling to explain his thought process. “You have absolutely no reason to self-deprecate like that, Yifan. You don’t see your potential and you don’t see how much you can already accomplish.”

Yifan didn’t utter a single sound. Junmyeon frowned a bit deeper, running his right hand down Yifan’s spine, just hard enough to make Yifan’s body twitch beneath him.

“I just want you to accept yourself more. It’s because I care about you, so don’t be angry with me for telling you this,” Junmyeon whispered. “I know you probably won’t believe me when I tell you this, but you really do deserve to be happy.”

Yifan scoffed at that. “Kinda hard to be happy when my back is bothering me.”

“If you hush and let me work, it’ll hurt less,” Junmyeon replied with a chuckle. A doctor would help even more, and Junmyeon knew it, but after Yifan had nearly bitten his head off the last time he had suggested for Yifan to go to the hospital, he didn’t bring it up. “Now hold still. Just let me know if I’m hurting you. I don’t want to make things any worse.”

They had certainly come a long way. Junmyeon couldn’t shake the strange feeling of nostalgia that had washed over him as he continued to kneel on the floor, massaging Yifan’s back for him. It seemed like only yesterday since he had first started university and had met Yifan for the first time, back when they hardly even looked at one another or spoke to each other. Things had changed, and Junmyeon liked this side of their relationship so much more than the previous one that consisted of awkward meetings and limited conversations.

“Ah, wait—Don’t,” Yifan grunted, unconsciously jerking in pain when Junmyeon’s hands began to wander near his lower back. “It hurts.”

“Just the bottom part?” Junmyeon asked hesitantly, moving his hand a bit lower. “What about here?”

“The lower portion is usually what bothers m— _Fuck!_ Ow, I just told you it hurts!” Yifan practically howled when Junmyeon dug experimentally into the lumbar region of his back. “Don’t mess with it.”

“Sorry! Sorry,” Junmyeon babbled in apology, instead letting his hands slide further north. He felt around for a moment, frowning in concern when he discovered the biggest knot so far on the right section of Yifan’s upper back. “Does it hurt here too if I touch it?”

“No. That’s fine,” Yifan softly replied. His body went limp to better accept Junmyeon’s touch. “I’ll let you know if it hurts.”

 Junmyeon could immediately feel Yifan relaxing underneath his hands when he began to dig into the muscle there. Yifan was definitely receptive to touch, just like Junmyeon had discovered earlier, and that was only confirmed when he pressed in harder, Yifan’s body immediately twitching in response.

Yifan’s back was bare and exposed to him, shirt tossed sloppily over the arm of the couch, skin flushed the softest shade of pink as Junmyeon kneaded it. The knot was stubborn, that was for sure, and Junmyeon’s brow pinched in concentration as he dug down even harder, working on loosening it.

He wasn’t prepared, however, for Yifan’s lips to part in a loud moan when Junmyeon used more force.

Junmyeon immediately froze, hands pressed deep into the stressed muscle of his back. “Yifan?”

“Doesn’t hurt. It’s good, just—It’s nice,” Yifan rambled, not making much sense, but he wasn’t trying to scoot away, so Junmyeon took it as a green light. Cautiously, he began to move again, listening to a wobbly yet pleased sigh rise from Yifan’s throat. “God, that’s been _killing_ me lately—“

Ah. That explained it then. Still, Junmyeon definitely hadn’t been expecting that kind of reaction, and even when he continued, it wasn’t easy to focus since Yifan just wouldn’t shut up. The man was practically a puddle against the carpet, sighing and moaning into the couch cushion tucked beneath his chin. Junmyeon knew he couldn’t help it, but… It was awkward, in a way, hovering over his boyfriend like this while he made those sorts of sounds.

He was trying not to acknowledge the fact that his palms were getting sweaty all of a sudden.

They didn’t talk. Junmyeon tried to focus on the task at hand, somewhat managing to block out Yifan’s noisiness in the process. Little by little, the knot at last began to fade, and Yifan quieted, but the damage was already done. Junmyeon was just thankful that Yifan’s back was facing him, otherwise he would have seen the way Junmyeon had to pause for a second to wipe one of his hands on his shirt. It was embarrassing enough as it was, and he definitely didn’t need Yifan’s commentary about it.

Junmyeon didn’t know how long it took, but eventually, he finished his work. He had wrung out every ache and knot that he possibly could. There wasn’t anything left for him to do. But when he stopped and pulled his hands away, Yifan whined quietly under his breath.

“You’re done already?” he asked sleepily. “Five more minutes?”

“What do you mean ‘already’? It’s been over an hour,” Junmyeon sighed out, ignoring Yifan’s request as he stood up. Knowing that Yifan was going to have issues rising to his feet, he already shuffled closer with extended hands to help him up. “Feel any better?”

“A lot. I was hungry and hurting,” Yifan said, letting out a grunt as he – with Junmyeon’s help – managed to stand up entirely. Junmyeon’s eyes flicked over his torso for one moment, taking in the sight of the man’s bare chest and the tattoo on his arm before quickly looking away. If Yifan noticed, he didn’t comment, instead sighing overdramatically as he shuffled a bit closer to the couch to grab his shirt. “Now I’m just hungry.”

“It is getting pretty late,” Junmyeon agreed softly, wincing as he checked his watch. “Maybe I should go…”

“But I’m about to cook dinner! You should stay. I can make something for you too. I’m sure it’s been ages since you had a home-cooked meal. The dining hall food definitely doesn’t count,” Yifan argued, tugging his shirt over his head.

“I don’t want to impose,” Junmyeon murmured, shuffling his feet uncertainly. “Besides, I still need to study, and I’ll see you tomorrow anyway.”

“You’re just full of excuses tonight. Maybe I _want_ to cook for you,” Yifan grumbled, a frown on his face as his head at last pulled through the neckline. “Second of all, it’s Friday night. No one studies on a Friday night. Third, you brought your backpack with you, so you can study here, if that’s what you wanna do. Fourth, since I’ll be seeing you tomorrow anyway, why don’t you just stay over?”

Junmyeon blinked several times, stunned into momentary silence as he just stared at Yifan. At last, he managed to get a grip, though he did stutter as he spoke up. “You want me to _what?”_

“Ah? You’re my boyfriend, it’s not like it’ll be weird if you stay over. It’d be more convenient anyway. You’re already here,” Yifan replied casually, seeming oblivious to Junmyeon’s distress. “Then we can just get up tomorrow and get ready for our date and everything. Right?”

“It is too weird!” Junmyeon whined. “Even if we ignore the fact I’ve never stayed over before—“

“False. You spent the night here when you got drunk at that party,” Yifan interrupted coolly. “And you’re sober this time, so it’ll be less weird this time around.”

Junmyeon frowned. “It’ll still be weird. And I didn’t bring anything that I need with me…”

“I have this thing called a bathroom that you can use. Spare toothbrush and the works,” Yifan argued without missing a beat. “And spare clothes.”

“And you say I’m full of excuses today. Why don’t you just admit you really want me to stay over and couldn’t figure out how to bring it up until tonight?” Junmyeon asked dryly.

“I’d argue with you but then I’d be a liar, so…” Yifan shrugged casually, and Junmyeon didn’t miss the way Yifan’s lips twitched into the smallest of smiles. “Would it help if I said please?”

Junmyeon tried to stand his ground, he _really_ did, but Yifan already had him under his control, tugging on his heart with those hopeful eyes and that little smile on his face. Junmyeon at last just sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine. I’ll stay the night.”

To his surprise, Yifan’s lips spread even further, as if he couldn’t control himself, showing off white teeth and a line of pink gums as he began to turn away towards his kitchen.

And if there was one other thing that couldn’t be controlled, it was his heart, suddenly hammering away in Junmyeon’s ribcage.

* * *

Junmyeon couldn’t sleep. Like Yifan had already said, it wasn’t his first time staying over, but it was his first time spending the night when he was totally sober and entirely aware of what was going on around him. He knew that he and Yifan were a couple, but he couldn’t shake off the weirdness of the situation. He was spending the night in Yifan’s apartment.

Worse, he and Yifan were sharing the bed.

It wasn’t like Yifan was trying to do anything to him. Yifan had put a good chunk of distance between them, curled up on one edge and facing the wall. Even when Junmyeon, who was lying on his side and facing the opposite direction, glanced over his shoulder, there was Yifan, motionless and not daring to cross the boundary of personal space. There was a lamppost right outside of Yifan’s bedroom window, sending light straining through his curtains. It was just enough for Junmyeon to take in the sight of his back, curved and hidden beneath a thin t-shirt. He could just barely make out the way his body moved when he breathed, the soft rise and fall of his skin and the muscles beneath it when he inhaled and exhaled.

Junmyeon turned his head once more to face the wall, leaving them back to back in the spacious bed. He knew that he shouldn’t be so weirded out. After all, he and Yifan were dating, and Yifan was giving him space. But it still felt awfully strange. Maybe it was because he had never stayed over while he was sober before, and on top of it, he was suddenly curled up in Yifan’s bed, with his boyfriend also in it.

There was rustling beside him. Junmyeon immediately froze, unsure as to what was happening. He and Yifan both had been motionless for what felt a century. He could have sworn that Yifan was asleep already, but when the mattress began to shift, signaling that Yifan was moving around, Junmyeon realized that he had been mistaken. Yifan was still awake, just like he was.

He could hear the creak of the bed and the shuffle of footsteps, signaling that Yifan was getting up. Junmyeon quickly closed his eyes, feigning sleep in a heartbeat. He was a little worried as to why Yifan wasn’t asleep, but he didn’t want to make things even more awkward by questioning him.

There were footfalls, quiet and soft, as they traveled around the bed. However, they abruptly stopped, and Junmyeon knew that Yifan had not left the room yet. It took every ounce of self-control within him not to flinch or make a sound when there was a sudden stroke of fingertips in his hair.

“You’re so cute when you’re asleep,” he could hear Yifan whisper, and Junmyeon remained absolutely still, praying that Yifan couldn’t hear the way his heart was pounding in his ribcage. Since his eyes were closed, Junmyeon couldn’t see what Yifan was doing; he was entirely dependent upon his ears and touch right now. The fingers in his hair pulled away after only a moment, and in their place, a pair of soft lips suddenly pressed, feather light, against his forehead in the shortest of kisses. “Sweet dreams, Junmyeon.”

The footsteps resumed, just as quiet and light against the carpet as a few moments prior. He heard scuffling as the hems of Yifan’s baggy sweatpants dragged across the floor when he crossed the remaining space of the bedroom. Silence at last fell when Yifan exited through the doorway, vanishing into the hall.

Officially alone, Junmyeon pried his eyes open, and, frowning, he raised one hand to cup his forehead. Ignoring the sudden heat in his cheeks, he stared at the bedroom door, open a meager sliver.

Yifan…was a massive softie.

That was plenty obvious at this point. Junmyeon could easily recall the way Yifan smiled uncontrollably when Junmyeon agreed to spend the night and how he practically purred in contentment when Junmyeon massaged his back for him. Even a compliment regarding his cooking was enough to make his face glow like a string of lights.

_“Maybe you were right. This does feel kinda weird,” Yifan commented as he stirred his food around inside of his bowl. “I don’t remember the last time I had someone over for dinner.”_

_“Do I need to be worried? If it’s been that long since you’ve had guests, you may be out of practice in terms of cooking,” Junmyeon said with a chuckle._

_Yifan’s brow pinched. “I cook for myself all the time. I’m not the best, I’ll admit that, but I’m decent.”_

_“The term ‘decent’ doesn’t give me a lot of hope, honestly,” Junmyeon teased, struggling not to laugh at the irritated expression etched into Yifan’s face. “I’m just joking. But seriously, I’ll be the judge of your cooking.”_

_Yifan just waited, staring at Junmyeon with curious eyes and baited breath. Junmyeon couldn’t hide the surprise from his face when he took his first bite._

_“It’s good,” Junmyeon deadpanned, watching a wide smile break out upon Yifan’s face as hurriedly scooped up another mouthful. “It’s_ really _good.”_

_“You should have more faith in me,” Yifan replied smugly, clearly satisfied, and still grinning ear to ear._

_Junmyeon barely heard him, furrowing his eyebrows together as he stared down at his food. It tasted weirdly familiar, down to the selection of spices, as if he had eaten this exact meal before. It didn’t make any sense. Where was this sudden nostalgia coming from? Junmyeon had cooked for himself right before he had started attending university and living on campus. The last time anyone had ever cooked for him was when his mother—_

_Oh._

_“Like I said, I’m not the best, but—“ Yifan began, although he abruptly stopped as he glanced across the small table to find Junmyeon’s eyes filling up with tears. “Whoa, whoa, wait a second! What’s the matter? Is it too spicy for you?”_

_“No, it—It’s perfect,” Junmyeon said with a hiccup, struggling to hold himself together and not burst out in tears. His throat visibly bobbed, eyes blinking rapidly as a watery grin appeared on his lips. “Your cooking just…reminds me of how my mom used to cook.”_

_Yifan’s face softened._

Yeah, definitely a softie. Soft and sweet and Junmyeon couldn’t help but let a shy smile crawl onto his face. He could still feel the ghosting sensation of Yifan’s lips kissing him goodnight on the forehead. He didn’t know why Yifan had gotten out of bed, nor why it was taking him so long to come back, but all Junmyeon could smell was _him_ , his scent marked deep into the sheets and pillows.

And the more he focused on it, the drowsier he became, until, at long last, he fell asleep.

* * *

When Junmyeon stirred awake, it was morning. He felt oddly refreshed and warm. It took him a moment to realize where he was, soaking in the sight of sheets and surrounding walls that were not his own, before the memories returned, reminding him that he was still in Yifan’s apartment. Early morning sunlight was shining in through the curtains, soaking into the bedding. With a sleepy but satisfied smile on his lips, Junmyeon arched his back, intending to stretch.

He froze, however, when his body bumped into something solid behind him.

Glancing down slowly, Junmyeon swallowed as he realized there was an arm draped around his waist. And, knowing it could only be one person, Junmyeon hesitantly glanced over his shoulder. Still cast upon his side, he looked, and he couldn’t stop the sensation of his heart feeling like it was creeping into his throat as he swiveled around enough to see Yifan curled up behind him.

Yifan was fast asleep. One arm was draped over Junmyeon’s hip, while the other was pressed deep into his own ribcage, fingers shaped into a loose fist against his collarbone. It took some awkward and careful maneuvering to ensure he wouldn’t accidentally wake Yifan with his wiggling, but he finally managed to catch a glimpse of Yifan’s face.

It was different from last time, the morning he had stumbled into the living room severely hungover and had discovered Yifan sleeping on the couch. He had seemed tense then, as if he could not find peace even in his dreams. This, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Junmyeon could not recall a time when Yifan’s face was this relaxed. The same characteristics were in place, the same nose, the same lips, the same tousled black hair, the same eyes complete with their dark circles. But Junmyeon see it, could sense the little differences, the way Yifan’s brow was no longer drawn into his trademark scowl, how his lips were no longer pulled into his typical frown, how his eyes were no longer squinted in annoyance. Calm. At ease. There was not the slightest bit of discomfort anywhere upon his face and Junmyeon could dare himself to say he liked this side of Yifan so much more.

But as much as he wanted to stay, he was awake, and he needed to get out of bed.

He knew that Yifan didn’t get nearly enough rest, but he was thankful for the fact that Yifan seemed to be a deep sleeper. Either that, or he was just too exhausted and was practically unconscious. Slowly but surely, Junmyeon began to free himself, moving Yifan’s arm ever-so-slightly so that he could slide out from underneath it. The moment he managed to wiggle away, he turned, checking to see if he had accidentally woken Yifan in the process. But Yifan was still fast asleep, muscles in his face twitching a little as he rolled over just a bit more. Junmyeon couldn’t help but smile a little as he watched Yifan curl up and into himself, burrowing one half of his face into the sheets, as if blindly chasing Junmyeon’s warmth.

“Babe,” Yifan mumbled, voice muffled and strung together with incoherent murmuring in a language that Junmyeon could not understand.

And even though Junmyeon couldn’t decipher a word of his speech, he could feel his cheeks reddening anyway, because he could remember how Yifan had sleepily called him ‘babe’ the last time he had spent the night.

Yifan was dreaming about _him._

Struggling to ignore that fact, Junmyeon carefully slid off the bed and stood up. He cast one final glance at Yifan, carving the sight into his memory. He had to admit it: Yifan, somehow or another, looked strangely cute this way. His mouth was hanging open, one cheek squished against the mattress, tall body clad in a pair of oversized sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt as he curled up into a little ball.

Lips twitching into an absent grin, Junmyeon crept towards the door, deciding to give Yifan mercy and let him sleep in a while longer.

A while longer turned into several hours. Junmyeon had ducked into Yifan’s bathroom before raiding his kitchen in search of breakfast. It was odd enough as it was, standing alone in his boyfriend’s apartment while the other slept; using his stove or any other appliances would be even stranger. He settled on just having a bowl of cereal, and couldn’t stop the roll of his eyes when he had noticed every brand of cereal Yifan had in his pantry was sugary and geared towards a child audience. He made himself at home at the table with his food and his textbooks and studied, and waited.

As time dragged on, and there was not a single peep from Yifan, Junmyeon found himself wandering back to the bedroom every half an hour to check on him, just like a worried parent. At long last, after hours of passed time, and several stolen snacks later, Junmyeon glanced up from his history textbook when he heard the familiar scuffle of sweatpants dragging against the floor. Junmyeon cracked a grin as Yifan appeared in the doorway, eyes squinted, hair strewn in every direction, lips pursed together unhappily.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Junmyeon commented teasingly, before he checked his watch. “Or… I guess I should say good afternoon, considering it’s just past twelve.”

Yifan just grunted at him, making a beeline for the coffee maker. Junmyeon wanted to be offended by that type of response, but he just couldn’t be, knowing perfectly well by now that Yifan needed caffeine to function, and that he was far from a morning person. So he kept quiet, burying his face back into his books as Yifan tinkered around the kitchen. When Yifan at last shuffled over to join him at the table, armed with a mug of hot coffee and two donuts, Junmyeon opened his mouth to speak, but Yifan beat him to it.

“You ate some of my donuts,” Yifan said, voice crackling from lack of use. It was a statement, not a question. Even though Yifan was still very much half-asleep, Junmyeon knew that for a fact.

“Um… I was hungry, and I didn’t want to use your stove or anything, so…” Junmyeon started uncertainly.

Yifan was literally _pouting_ as he poured creamer into his coffee. “Don’t touch my donuts.”

“First of all, you should be eating something healthier for breakfast…” Junmyeon began, watching Yifan take a sip of coffee. Deeming it good enough, he swallowed it, before ignoring what Junmyeon told him and unceremoniously biting into one of the donuts. Junmyeon just sighed. “I already knew that you were a caffeine addict, but you seem to be pretty addicted to sugar.”

“’M not addicted,” Yifan grumbled back at him around a mouthful of donut.

“I think you and I have two different meanings to the word ‘addicted’,” Junmyeon said, tapping his pen against the pages of his book. “How did you sleep? I dunno how long you were up for but it was kinda weird sleeping in your bed by myself.”

“Did I wake you?” Yifan asked, sleepy eyes blinking worriedly. Junmyeon decided to fib a little, not wanting to let Yifan know he had heard Yifan’s whispers or had felt the kiss placed onto his forehead, so he just shook his head. Yifan just sighed a little, tiredly, as he drank some more of his coffee. “I slept pretty good once I fell asleep. I had a hard time sleeping so I just got up and painted for a while then went back to bed. That was at…three, I think. I’m just glad I didn’t wake you up getting back in bed.”

“No wonder you slept until noon,” Junmyeon replied dryly. “You go to sleep late and rise late.”

“Insomnia, more like no class, no problem,” Yifan countered calmly. “When did you get up?”

“Seven-thirty,” Junmyeon answered, watching Yifan wrinkle his nose in distaste at that answer. “And, uh, not to make things awkward, but you called me babe in your sleep this morning.”

“Did I?” Yifan asked, a sudden teasing tone lining his voice. “Guess that makes us even, since you kept calling me ‘Yeokbeom’ when you were hammered.”

“I called you that?” Junmyeon deadpanned in embarrassment, before sighing. “Yeokbeom is at least your _name_ , just in Korean. My name isn’t babe.”

“It can be if you want it to be,” Yifan replied, one tired eye _winking_ at him over the rim of his coffee mug. “A new nickname, all just for you.”

“That’s not—!”

“What, would you prefer something else? Kitten? Sweetheart? Pumpkin? Babydoll?” Yifan started, fluttering his eyelashes playfully. When Junmyeon’s face began to redden, Yifan let out a loud snort of amusement. “I’m just pulling your leg, Junmyeon. If you don’t want me to give you a pet name, then I won’t.”

“It’s not bad, I just… It’s weird,” Junmyeon mumbled, glancing down at the table. “I guess it’s because I’m not used to it? And my ex-boyfriends never gave me any kind of nickname. I was just Junmyeon.”

“Well, we’ll see if you get used to it then,” Yifan said coolly, seeming more awake at this point, raking his fingers through his bangs as he sipped his coffee. “And if not then it’s not a big deal.”

That was life for a short while. He and Yifan remained at the table, talking quietly while Yifan had his breakfast. Or, as Junmyeon put it, complete with his giggling, lunch. Afterwards, Yifan didn’t bother to try to hide the location of their date this time, mentioning that he was going to get ready before they could head out.

And there Junmyeon was, standing awkwardly within Yifan’s walk-in closet as he tried to find something to wear while Yifan was in the shower. He had borrowed some of Yifan’s nightwear for sleeping last night, but trying to put together a new outfit before they left for their date was a different story. Yifan’s pants were definitely not going to fit him, so he was going to wear the same pair of jeans. He wanted to change his shirt, but…

Oh, this was _so_ weird.

Still, he finally decided on a top, and just in the nick of time. He had the shirt halfway over his head when he heard the bathroom door pop open.

“Luhan is on my last nerve,” Yifan’s voice called then, and Junmyeon jumped, narrowly avoiding cracking his head on the shelf above him. Managing to at last wrangle the shirt on properly, Junmyeon stepped out and into the hall. He could see Yifan standing in the bathroom, perched in front of the sink as he meticulously dried his hair with a fluffy towel. “He’s been blowing up my phone all morning.”

“Why?” Junmyeon asked, tilting his head absently to one side as he adjusted the neckline of the shirt. It was supposed to be extremely cold today, so Junmyeon had swiped one of Yifan’s sweaters to wear. He had known it was going to be too big on him, but it was good enough.

“He keeps wanting to hang out and he kept pushing for today even though he knew I was going out with you,” Yifan replied bitterly. “Weekends are for _you_.”

“Yifan, I know we don’t get much time during the week to see each other, but Luhan is your friend,” Junmyeon said softly as he trekked into the bathroom. “If he wants to hang out with you, then why not? You aren’t going to die if you don’t hang out with me for one weekend.”

“I like hanging out with you more,” Yifan replied stubbornly, straightening himself up then and carelessly discarding the towel on the floor. Junmyeon was trying not to acknowledge that Yifan was bare from the waist up, clad in pants but no shirt to avoid his hair from dripping onto it. The tattoo on his arm was so much more detailed up close like this, and Junmyeon took a moment to stare at it as he listened to Yifan talk. “Besides, you and I already made plans.”

“Why don’t you let him tag along?” Junmyeon offered, getting a look of pure bewilderment from Yifan. “We can make it more of, like…a hangout, or something. I spent most of yesterday with you anyway. You can afford to share yourself with your friend for today.”

Yifan huffed stubbornly, although he didn’t argue. Junmyeon just stood there as Yifan tugged his shirt over his head, before rummaging through the assortment of items on the countertop in search of his comb. “Fine. If that’s really what you want.”

“It’ll be kinda weird since I’ve never hung out with Luhan before, but I don’t see why we can’t try it,” Junmyeon replied honestly. “Besides, you guys obviously haven’t been hanging out lately, so this will be good for both of you. And I’ll still be going too. It’s not like you’re going to be hanging out with him alone and not get a chance to see me.”

A mischievous grin suddenly formed on Yifan’s lips as he stared into the mirror. “If he gets too annoying do I have your permission to kiss you until he gets uncomfortable and decides to go home?”

“I feel like this is a trick question,” Junmyeon muttered. “You probably just want to kiss me regardless of him being obnoxious or not.”

“Guilty as charged,” Yifan replied coolly, turning his head to one side so that he could stare directly at Junmyeon. “I just can’t help myself around someone as beautiful as you.”

Yifan _winked_ at him, and Junmyeon’s face immediately burned beet red. He wasn’t sure what he was getting himself into, but he knew one thing for sure: it was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 25 Jan 2017


	23. Gesture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ GESTURE ]_
> 
> _a category of artistic practice having a particular form, content, or technique_

Well… This was more awkward than Junmyeon had been initially anticipating. Sure, he had expected it to be at least _somewhat_ weird, considering that he had never hung out with Luhan before, especially outside of classes. That was only coupled with the fact that he was now out in public with two professors at once, and the newest addition to their party was, in a way, crashing their date.

Maybe that was why Yifan was in such a weird mood.

After all, Yifan had seemed fine before they had left the apartment. But as soon as they had made it downstairs, Yifan’s demeanor had flipped on a dime. Luhan had offered to be their form of transportation for the day, and when they clambered into the car, Yifan was immediately grumpy, giving Luhan nothing more than a clipped grunting noise in greeting. Junmyeon, sitting alone in the backseat, couldn’t help but wonder if he had made a mistake by suggesting for Luhan to tag along for the day. After all, Yifan seemed awfully irritated now, after not showing that attitude a single bit earlier.

_“Are you mad at me?” Junmyeon asked hesitantly as he clambered out of the car, noisily closing the door behind himself. Yifan followed at a much slower pace, grimacing as he heaved himself out as well. “You seem really upset, and we just got here.”_

_“That’s because I am mad,” Yifan grumbled, slamming his door shut as Luhan came swooping out of the driver’s seat. “But I’m not mad at you.”_

That was a relief, but Junmyeon still didn’t like the fact that Yifan was suddenly in a bad mood now just over the fact that Luhan was hanging out with them. Then again…there were some other factors added in, surely. Yifan and Luhan had gotten into an argument as soon as they had all clambered into the car, ripping into one another over their choice of a hangout spot for the day. Yifan’s initial plans had been thrown out the window and he had, at last, simply thrown his hands up in frustration when Luhan wasn’t backing down about his idea of where they should go. Junmyeon, awkwardly sitting alone in the back, could already tell by the look on Yifan’s face that he was pissed.

And as the three of them wandered the halls of the museum together, Junmyeon could feel a thick uneasiness in the air among them. Oddly enough, hanging out with yet another professor wasn’t nearly as bad as he had thought it would be. He and Luhan were getting along well and things were relaxed between the two of them, but Junmyeon could practically see the electricity of tension crackling between Luhan and Yifan.

“Wait, so, I have a question,” Junmyeon said, hearing Yifan hum in questioning. The pair was stationed in one of the dimmed rooms. Yifan was standing to his right, examining an assortment of fossils that sat behind the glass, as Junmyeon continued to eyeball the enormous skeleton of a tyrannosaurus rex that loomed over him. “Didn’t you say something about how only certain things have good chances of becoming fossilized?”

“Yeah. Softer materials will have a harder time in terms of being preserved, since they break down easier. Think, like…” Yifan started, scratching his chin thoughtfully, “like plant leaves.”

“Feathers too?” Junmyeon inquired from behind the camera of his cell phone as he shot a few more photographs.

“Feathers too,” Yifan said. “Those would have a difficult time. Why do you ask?”

“I’m just wondering. Like… Well, when a person dies, and everything decomposes, you just have the bones, right? Just like dinosaurs,” Junmyeon babbled. Yifan merely raised an eyebrow, unsure as to where Junmyeon was taking their conversation. “And you said stuff like feathers doesn’t preserve very well. What if dinosaurs were just covered in feathers and looked like enormous oversized birds, and we just don’t know it?”

Yifan busted out laughing at that as he slowly approached Junmyeon, coming to stand beside him as he stared up at the skeleton display. “All I can imagine is a flock of big bloodthirsty chickens with tiny arms in the place of a t-rex.”

“Hey, you never know!” Junmyeon exclaimed. “You weren’t even alive during the…what era was this…”

The right corner of Yifan’s mouth twitched in amusement as he watched Junmyeon scoot closer to read the informative plaque stationed at the base of the skeleton. “The t-rex was alive during the late cretaceous period, Junmyeon.”

“Okay, but seriously, how come they were so big?” Junmyeon asked, chin wrinkling as he frowned. “Like how did they even manage to get to that point and survive? You don’t see things that big walking around on land anymore.”

“Well, you have to remember that the earth was different when the dinosaurs were alive. Obviously none of us were there to see it, but a lot of studies give some insight about how things used to be,” Yifan explained, tucking his hands into his pockets. “One aspect a lot of people like to drag into this discussion is the atmospheric components. Back then, oxygen levels were lower than they are now. That may have played a role in how dinosaurs could be the size that they were.”

Junmyeon pursed his lips and gave Yifan a puzzled glance. “How is it that you have known at least one chunk of information about literally every exhibit we’ve seen so far?”

Yifan casually shrugged his shoulders. “I just know things.”

“No, you’re just smart. Now I see why you had a perfect 4.0 GPA nearly your entire college career,” Junmyeon commented, shaking his head in disbelief. “I mean, seriously, I still can’t believe you talked about geology for so long that you even made Luhan leave.”

“Good riddance,” Yifan replied with a snort. “If he wants to go look at all the history exhibits, then let him. I hate history.”

Junmyeon frowned. “Yifan, I’m not trying to start an argument with you, but I do think you’re being really rude to him today. You’ve been giving him a hard time all morning.”

“Okay, but here’s a theory: I didn’t want him to come, change our plans, and ruin our date by being an unneeded third wheel,” Yifan said curtly.

“But he’s just trying to spend time with you,” Junmyeon explained, eyebrows upturning in concern. “He’s your friend. I know you two bicker a lot but this is pretty bad, even for you two. Even if you don’t want him here right now, can’t you at least be civil?”

“I don’t have to act civil if I don’t want to,” Yifan replied stubbornly. “Look, Junmyeon, there’s a lot you still don’t know about me, but to make this conversation simpler, let’s put it this way: I grew tired of being a doormat a long time ago. I got sick of giving people chance after chance, only for them to do the same thing all over again. And Luhan is no exception, friend or not. He’s had plenty of chances to hang out with me before now, and I’m not about to bend over backwards again to try to fit his wants and his schedule. So, no, I’m not going to be civil when I’m sick of the shit.”

Junmyeon just blinked at him, obviously having no idea of what to even say. Yifan wouldn’t look at him, checking his watch for a second instead with a grimace on his face.

“Are you hungry?” Yifan then asked him, as if their previous conversation hadn’t even happened. “We can get some food from the café downstairs. I think I need to sit down anyway.”

“I could eat, sure,” Junmyeon said softly, still thrown for a bit of a loop at how quickly Yifan had just changed the conversation. “Why do you need to sit? Is your back bothering you?”

“My back always bothers me,” Yifan sighed. “I think it’s just because we’ve been walking a lot. My hips and the backs of my thighs are hurting.”

“If you’re in pain, then you need to take a break,” Junmyeon told him, already ushering Yifan out of the exhibition room. “Just take the elevator downstairs. I’ll meet you there in a second, okay? I’m going to find Luhan; I’m sure he’s hungry too.”

Junmyeon didn’t miss the way Yifan rolled his eyes, but he didn’t comment. He walked with Yifan down the hall until they reached the elevator, and, after giving Yifan a little wave when the art professor shuffled into it, Junmyeon wandered off towards the history section in search of Luhan.

Finding the professor wasn’t a very difficult task. Junmyeon had already known that Luhan had headed for the history section of the building. His footsteps were much too loud against the hard floors that lined the quiet rooms. Weaving through the various halls and around too many corners, Junmyeon finally spotted Luhan, his blue jacket practically a beacon announcing his presence. Luhan’s back was facing him, and Junmyeon approached, being as quiet as he could, not wanting to startle him.

“Luhan,” Junmyeon then said as he reached out with one hand and gently tapped him on the shoulder. Luhan jumped slightly, swiveling on his heel so that he could come face to face with Junmyeon. “Yifan and I are going downstairs to the café to get something to eat, if you wanna join us.”

“I can meet you guys down there in a few minutes,” Luhan replied, face clouded over in thought as he turned back to the wall before him.

Junmyeon frowned, edging closer so that he too could see what was written on the display. “What are you reading about?”

“Do you remember our discussion about the roman empire during lecture?” Luhan asked, and when Junmyeon nodded, Luhan continued. “This is about the Byzantine Empire. When the Roman Empire split, the Western Roman Empire – including Rome – collapsed, but the Eastern Roman Empire became known as the Byzantine Empire. It carried on for an additional one thousand years.”

“Wow… That’s a long time,” Junmyeon murmured, unsure of what else to say to that. Luhan seemed to be deep in thought, normally relaxed face hardened and lips drawn into a thin line. “Um… Luhan? Is something bothering you?”

“Just thinking,” Luhan replied, sighing and shoulders slumping.

Junmyeon had an inkling about the possible topic. “Is it about Yifan?”

“Was it that obvious?” Luhan asked, letting out a rather dry chuckle as he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets. He forced out a puff of air through his nose in frustration. “I don’t know. Kris has changed a lot since the first day I met him, but it’s at the point nowadays where I can’t figure him out for the life of me. One day he’s fine with being around me, and the next moment, he suddenly hates me again.”

Junmyeon winced. “I doubt that he hates you. I think he’s just upset since you asked him at the last minute to hang out and he had to change his plans because of it.”

“I thought hanging out with him if you were here could lead to better results,” Luhan explained, “but I guess I was mistaken.”

“What do you mean?” Junmyeon asked, confusion painting his voice.

“Kris has hung out with me very little over the years. He’s drawn further and further away from me the older we became. I met him for coffee not long after you two first began dating. That was the first time I hung out with him in months,” Luhan explained. “But Kris seems to really enjoy hanging out with you. I thought that maybe if I hung out with him when you were around, he’d be in a good mood. But it seems like he’s just in a good mood around _you_ today. I can tell I pissed him off. I know that I probably pushed him too hard but it’s reached the point where I know if I don’t fight tooth and nail for it, he isn’t going to want anything to do with me. Kris can hold a grudge for a lifetime, by the way. For all I know he could be mad about me changing his plans _and_ something I did in the past.”

“Haven’t you tried to hang out with him like you two used to do?” Junmyeon asked. “Like just a hangout as friends?”

“Many times. Like I said, he agreed to meet me for coffee not too long ago, and that was the first time in ages I hung out with him. Every time I ask he shoots me down,” Luhan replied quietly. He sighed heavily. “I’ve known him for over thirteen years, Junmyeon. I’m trying to salvage this friendship, but it’s hard. He’s changed.”

_“Luhan!” Yifan gushed, shoving a battered old basketball into Luhan’s face as soon as he pried open the door to his dorm room. “Come play basketball with me!”_

_Luhan just couldn’t say no to the way Yifan’s lips were parted, showing off a line of straight white teeth and a hint of pink gums._

“Come on,” Luhan then said, turning away from the display. “Let’s go eat.”

Frowning worriedly, Junmyeon followed the other in silence. The two of them wandered through the exhibits, winding up taking the elevator as well since it was closer than the stairs. As Luhan pushed the button and they waited, Junmyeon turned to face him.

“I know you said that you guys met in college and that you’ve been friends for a really long time,” Junmyeon began as the doors slid open with a _ding._ “But how did you two meet?”

“We lived in the same dorm,” Luhan replied, shuffling into the elevator with Junmyeon right on his heels. “I met him on move-in day. He was lugging a box down the hall without a cart. Next thing you know he tripped over his own two feet and fell flat of his face. He dropped the box, and of course, he hadn’t taped the top shut. Now imagine the look on his face when he sat up and realized his clothes had flown out of the box and there were now about a dozen pairs of his underwear lying on the dorm hallway carpet for the whole world to see.”

“Oh man… That sounds really embarrassing,” Junmyeon replied, wincing. “I’m guessing you helped him?”

“Yeah. Helped him pick up his clothes and bring some of his stuff upstairs,” Luhan continued. “You should’ve seen how red his face was.”

He really must have been embarrassed. Junmyeon already knew that it was usually Yifan’s ears that turned red when he blushed, and not his cheeks. Junmyeon’s insides felt weird just thinking about it. “What was he like back then? Didn’t you say that I remind you of him?”

“Did I?” Luhan asked, his eyes squinting a little in thought as they stepped out of the elevator. “But, well… Yeah. You two have a lot of similarities. You and the younger Kris, I mean.”

“Such as…?” Junmyeon pressed, eyes blinking at Luhan curiously.

“Extreme optimism, always smiling over something, constantly working,” Luhan explained. “But like I said, he changed. And I don’t think that the old Kris is ever coming back.”

* * *

Junmyeon had already known that Yifan and Luhan bickered a lot, so it wasn’t like he had been expecting for the day to go off without a hitch. However, this was beyond bickering, and Junmyeon felt like he was on his last rope. Ever since they had left earlier that morning, Yifan had an attitude, and now Luhan was starting to get annoyed. The two of them were snapping at each other nonstop, and Junmyeon was both frustrated and embarrassed. He just wanted the three of them to have a nice time out together, and to eat a peaceful lunch, but that had ended with Yifan and Luhan arguing with each other so loudly in the corner of the café that all the other patrons were staring. Junmyeon had just shrunk down in his seat, embarrassed, trying not to focus on the disapproving stares surrounding them as Yifan gave Luhan a piece of his mind.

_“You like museums!” Luhan said, frustrated. “Why do you act like you’re so miserable?”_

_“I’m miserable because I’m here with you,” Yifan snapped back at him, food forgotten. Junmyeon was quiet beside him, face red in secondhand embarrassment. “Why do you always act like the entire world revolves around you? Of course I’m in a bad mood! First of all you crashed my date and not to mention the fact that you completely and utterly changed every single thing about it! I had a big fancy date planned and you ruined it! You’re just as self-centered as you were when we were in college.”_

The fighting just didn’t stop either. Even after they finished their food and decided to call it quits, Yifan and Luhan were still going at it. They were squabbling all the way to the car, and even when Luhan began to drive them away, the arguing continued. Junmyeon sat awkwardly in the backseat, listening to them fight, and unsure of what to say or do to try to break them apart. But he didn’t have to think for too long. Yifan’s patience dried up eventually and he whirled to face Luhan with infuriated eyes as the final thread holding him together snapped.

_“Will you just give it a fucking rest already?! I told you I’m pissed off and you running your mouth is just making me even angrier!” he shouted. “I told you this morning that I didn’t want to hang out with you, so how did you expect me to feel when you kept pushing me?! You ruined my date and my day so of course I’m in a shitty mood!”_

_“Why do you act like it’s such a crime for me to want to hang out with you?!” Luhan yelled back at him. Junmyeon, still sitting in the back, felt very uncomfortable as the two screeched at each other. “I always ask you to hang out and you blow me off, and the one day that you do hang out with me, you act like a total dick! I kept bugging you because I knew you would be out anyway with Junmyeon and maybe I just wanted to hang out with you too!”_

_“If you’re so lonely then maybe you should make more friends or get your own boyfriend! Hell, I know Minseok isn’t seeing anyone right now; do you want his number? Would that shut you up?” Yifan hollered. “If I wanna spend time alone with my boyfriend then that’s exactly what I’m going to do, whether you like it or not!”_

_“It isn’t wrong for me to want to hang out with you too, Kris!”_

_“It’s wrong when you intrude on the time that I already set aside for him! You only want to hang out with me when it’s convenient for you! You asked me to join you for coffee because_ you _wanted coffee! You didn’t even ask me what I wanted! You just assumed since I need caffeine to get going in the morning I’d be fine with it,” Yifan snarled, cool demeanor having flown completely out the window as he lost himself. “It’s always about you and it always has been! Even now, that’s how it is! You just wanna hang out when you want to, you never ask me when would be a good time for_ me _, or make sure I don’t have plans already. You never even ask me what I want to do! It’s always your schedule, your choices, your everything! You’re just as fucking self-centered as you were thirteen years ago!”_

 _“I am_ not _self-centered!” Luhan shouted, nearly swerving off the side of the road as his head whipped to one side to give Yifan a ferocious glare. “And I never have been!”_

 _“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that? What, are you senile already at this age? You forgot all about me in college! You didn’t even fucking recognize me when I was in the hospital my junior year! Or did that magically slip your memory too?” Yifan snapped. “I bent over backwards for you nonstop because you were my closest and only friend and you took advantage of that. Never, not one fucking time, to this day, did you_ ever _give me a proper apology for that! You took me for granted, you used me, and I got tired of it! I got tired of constantly asking you to hang out with me only to get pushed away, I got tired of wasting my time waiting on you to show up when you promised that you would, I got tired of putting in effort into a friendship that didn’t exist anymore! You took me for granted and I didn’t want to be your little plaything that you only came to when no one else wanted to hang out with you or you wanted someone to complain to about your relationship problems! So you know what, I have every goddamn reason to treat you this way, and I don’t regret it. I’m not letting the same flame burn me twice, especially now that I have someone in my life that appreciates me. Now pull over and let me out of this stupid car right this_ second _.”_

_Dumbfounded, Luhan didn’t even respond, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to stare at Yifan._

_“Are you deaf now too?! I said pull the fucking car over!” Yifan screamed, and Luhan fumbled to obey. The car wasn’t even completely stopped when Yifan flung the door open, heaving himself out. Without even looking back, he slammed the door shut behind him. It was a miracle that he didn’t shatter the glass._

_Giving Luhan a stunned yet apologetic look, Junmyeon hurriedly opened the door to the backseat and went after Yifan._

The atmosphere between them was awkward and heavy. Luhan had dropped them off near a shopping complex outside of downtown. Deep down, Junmyeon was a tad worried about someone from campus seeing them, but he didn’t want to bring it up to Yifan. He looked like he had enough on his mind as it was. The two of them were quietly wandering the halls of the mall, side by side. Yifan’s eyes were clouded over with thought and Junmyeon was chewing on his lip. There were no words between them, hadn’t been, not since Luhan and Yifan had gotten into their fight. Too many people were around them, absorbed into their own conversations, their words a watered down mesh of white noise that echoed in Junmyeon’s ears as he tried to think of what to say.

As they stood outside of the elevator to head up to the second floor, they both sighed nearly in unison, at last making eye contact as they spoke simultaneously. “I’m sorry.”

 Yifan quirked an eyebrow. “What are you sorry for? You have no reason to apologize.”

“I’m the one who suggested that Luhan should come with us,” Junmyeon said quietly, eyes downcast in shame. “I shouldn’t have done that. Look what happened.”

“It was bound to happen eventually,” Yifan replied, voice just as soft as Junmyeon’s. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I really didn’t choose the best time nor place to rip into him the way that I did.”

Silence fell again. They had wandered into the mall to begin with just to walk around and blow off some emotional steam. Now that Yifan had calmed down and Junmyeon wasn’t drowning in the embarrassment and awkwardness, things felt too quiet and too hesitant, as if neither of them knew what to do now.

“I’m sorry our date sucked,” Yifan then muttered as the two of them began to wander the second floor, having stepped off the elevator a few moments ago. “I know how much you were looking forward to today and now it’s ruined.”

“Well… I wouldn’t say it’s completely ruined. I’m still here with you,” Junmyeon said, glancing up at Yifan and offering him a small smile. “We’ve gone shopping together before but I guess we could do it again, since we’re here?”

“Okay.” The corner of Yifan’s mouth twitched, eyes glazed completely over with love. “Next weekend, I’ll make it up to you, considering how I’ve acted today. I know I’ve been in a bad mood all day and have been a total party pooper.”

Junmyeon couldn’t help but smile at those words, heart feeling oddly light all of a sudden as he felt Yifan’s hand bump against his. “Let me guess: dinner?”

“Well, I like food, and you like food, so that’s a possibility,” Yifan replied thoughtfully. “I’d love to see you dressed all fancy and take you out, anyway.”

Junmyeon blinked in surprise, the sudden comment making a splash of pink appear in his cheeks. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. I bet you’d look gorgeous in a suit and tie,” Yifan said, almost dreamily, as if he was already imagining it. “Tell you what. While we’re on this topic, someday, I want to take you out somewhere ridiculously fancy and expensive. Like, five star restaurant level fancy and expensive.”

Junmyeon just laughed softly in response. “Someday. I’m not in any hurry.”

He felt Yifan’s pinky finger nudge against his own, and Junmyeon, without a moment of hesitation, let his fingers uncurl just enough to let Yifan latch on.

* * *

Junmyeon liked to read. He didn’t have as many opportunities these days to spend time reading, since he barely had free time in general with all he had to do for school. But, regardless, it was an enjoyable hobby for him, being able to let his eyes roam over the words and sentenced stamped into pages of books and lose himself in the fictional world created inside.

He and Yifan had done a small bit of shopping together to try to repair their ruined date and to clear the awkward atmosphere that still lingered in the cracks between them. They had ducked into a few clothing stores just to look around, cracking jokes about some of the awful fabrics and designs for sale. Yifan had purchased a few things for himself, such as a new button-up for work and a cardigan that Junmyeon _insisted_ would look fantastic on him. He offered to buy Junmyeon something, telling him to just pick out whatever he wanted, but Junmyeon waved him away. There had been an adorable scarf that he had his eyes on, black with chubby white cartoon bunnies, but he didn’t tell Yifan. He didn’t want Yifan to spend additional money on him, especially over something material that he didn’t even need.

There was a store that sold nothing but leather products, and Yifan had practically dragged Junmyeon inside so they could look around together. The goods were of high quality and _did_ look nice, but after Junmyeon checked the price tags, he found himself immediately putting things back on the rack, knowing there was no way on earth he could afford anything in the store. Yifan, on the other hand, after meticulously combing through the jackets, at last found one that he liked, snagging it and a new pair of leather boots that he said would both come in handy for a new motorcycle riding outfit.

Yifan, unsurprisingly, complained that he was hungry again, and mentioned that his pain was flaring up, so they crashed in the food court for a while, sharing an entrée from one restaurant and some baked sweets from the little hole in the wall bakery a few booths down.

They were heading out soon. Junmyeon had wanted to swing by the bookstore on the ground floor on the way out. Yifan, who was having a craving for an iced coffee, readily agreed. While Yifan waited in the attached café to order his drink, Junmyeon wandered the store in search of a new novel. Sure, he didn’t have time at the moment to read, but midterms were in only a few days. Before he knew it, winter break would arrive. He would have plenty of time to read then!

Plus, he wanted to find a gift for Yifan. Yifan’s birthday was only about two weeks after midterms, and Junmyeon hadn’t found him a present yet. He wanted to get Yifan something that he would enjoy, but he was, unfortunately, a broke college student, so his options were rather limited. But, one thing was for sure, he knew Yifan loved motorcycles. He had seen the ocean of motorcycle magazines and books that were piled up on the coffee table. Something like that couldn’t possibly be a bad choice, right?

After hunting around, Junmyeon finally found what he was looking for, which was a fantasy novel for himself, and a book on motorcycles for Yifan. He was sure Yifan would like it; its pages were all completely illustrated in fully colored photographs of the different models, and included tons of background information about the bikes. It was almost like an encyclopedia for motorcycles, and Junmyeon already knew how much Yifan loved that sort of thing.

Waiting patiently in line, Junmyeon was thumbing through his book. There were two girls standing in front of him, whispering excitedly to each other. Junmyeon couldn’t help but eavesdrop.

“Look at his legs! They’re so long,” the brunette one was saying, her voice wavering dreamily. “He’s really hot, don’t you think?”

Junmyeon smiled absently to himself. He may not have been attracted to girls, but he couldn’t deny that girls were cute.

“Oh, yeah. I’d drop my panties in a heartbeat for him,” the other one said, and Junmyeon immediately frowned. Okay. Maybe girls weren’t so cute after all. “God, look at his _thighs._ Those ripped jeans are a blessing. I tell you what, that man can’t be single. Which one of those girls do you think is dating him?”

Curiosity getting the best of him, Junmyeon made the mistake of looking to see who they were talking about. Following their vague gestures and line of sight, Junmyeon turned his head, and instantly froze when he realized they were staring at Yifan, who was lingering at the counter of the café.

Yifan, who was standing at the café counter, and laughing with a group of girls.

The two women in front of him had already been called up to the next register available and Junmyeon, so mentally caught up in what was happening, didn’t even realize he was next in line until the fifth time he was called. While the cashier began to ring up his books, Junmyeon couldn’t stop staring, watching the girls give Yifan playful nudges on the arm and laughed constantly, as if Yifan was the funniest man in the whole world. As their drinks were ready, Junmyeon watched them all flock forward to get them, giving Yifan not at _all_ subtle winks and waves as they began to leave.

Something hot was boiling in Junmyeon’s stomach as he turned his head away, immediately recognizing the feeling as jealousy.

To the best of his knowledge, he was not the jealous type. But seeing Yifan laughing with so many women like that, seeing them touch him like that, and having experienced two ex-boyfriends that flirted with others way too much, Junmyeon did not like what he had just seen. It hurt him, and he knew it wasn’t Yifan’s fault; the man was insanely handsome, after all. But seeing others flock to him, to see them flirt with him, and to remember his exes acting the same way, throwing him to the curb while seeking interest in others and throwing around flirtations, it _hurt._

His heart suddenly felt so heavy.

And apparently, it showed, because Yifan was continuously giving him weird looks as they exited the bookstore and made their way towards the mall exit.

“You went into that store all chipper and now that we’re leaving you look like you just ate something sour,” Yifan murmured, slurping his iced coffee loudly as they walked side by side down the crowded mall hallway. “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?”

“Nothing,” Junmyeon replied, his voice much more clipped and acidic than he intended, and it was a dead giveaway that something _was_ bothering him. “I’m fine.”

“I can always tell when you’re lying to me, Junmyeon,” Yifan replied coolly, lips still twisted around his straw. “Your face turns the most interesting shade of pink when you’re lying to me.”

Crap. Junmyeon had forgotten all about that. Still, even though Yifan had just called his bluff, Junmyeon didn’t say anything, keeping his eyes locked straight ahead as if he was looking into a tunnel.

“Do you not want me to know?” Yifan asked carefully. “Or are you just unsure of what my answer might be?”

How was it that Yifan always knew how to wiggle his way into his brain like that, and why did he always know exactly what to say? Maybe it was life experience, Junmyeon didn’t know, but sometimes Yifan was just too smart for his own good. It was so difficult to hide _anything_ from him. Yifan could read him like an open book, and it wasn’t like they had been dating for years upon years.

Junmyeon’s voice cracked as he spoke. “The latter.”

“Well, you aren’t going to know my answer unless you ask me the question,” Yifan said, voice so calm and so collected that all it was doing was making Junmyeon even _more_ anxious.

In fact, he was so wound up, that all he could do was stop dead in tracks and whirl around to face Yifan, positive the distress was now plastered across his face.

“Do you love me?” Junmyeon then blurted, hands tightly gripping the handles of his bags.

“Immensely,” Yifan immediately responded, not even blinking as he stared at Junmyeon. “More than anyone else in the whole world.”

 “If you didn’t love me anymore, would you tell me?” Junmyeon’s throat bobbed, feeling as if a knot had inflated inside of his windpipe. “Or would you just find someone else and I would be the last person to ever find out?”

“Do I look like your ex-boyfriends?” Yifan deadpanned, pursing his lips together uncertainly. “Is that what all this is suddenly about? What’s got you so insecure all of a sudden?”

“I’m not insecure,” Junmyeon argued weakly, but deep down, yes, he _was_ , and all it had taken was a group of girls he had never seen before to flirt with his boyfriend.

“You literally just asked me that if I, for whatever reason, wanted to leave you, I would tell you or not,” Yifan replied, left eyebrow inching up his forehead. “That sounds a lot like insecurity to me. And I don’t know what’s got you into this mindset all of a sudden, but you need to let it go. I wouldn’t, in a million years, dream of leaving you.”

“You could find someone better,” Junmyeon mumbled, his voice losing its fight. “There are a lot of people in this world.”

“ _You_ are my world, Junmyeon,” Yifan muttered, and with no warning, Yifan was scooting closer to him. Junmyeon stepped back, and Yifan inched forward, sending the two of them inching backwards until Junmyeon’s spine bumped into the outer wall of the nearest store. “Cheesy, perhaps, but there’s no way in hell I could find someone better when you’re the best thing in it.”

It suddenly dawned on him what Yifan was about to do. Right there, in a mall hallway, surrounded by tons of people, Yifan had him literally backed into a corner. Junmyeon’s throat bobbed nervously, hands clutching his bags for dear life as Yifan leaned down over him, large frame shadowing over Junmyeon’s own.

He didn’t even have time to think. With no other warning, Yifan leaned down, and right then and there in public, Yifan kissed him. Junmyeon’s eyes widened for a split second before fluttering shut, his body already melting, bones weak and mind shutting itself off. The world was gone and there was nothing left but Yifan, Yifan who had his free hand resting on Junmyeon’s hipbone. Yifan always kissed him so wonderfully, lips moving with the perfect amount of strength and love and Junmyeon couldn’t stop himself from gasping a little when Yifan nipped at his lower lip.

It was a mistake. Junmyeon _whimpered_ as Yifan, with no warning, suddenly shoved his tongue into his mouth. He could feel the fingers of Yifan’s hand digging into his hip, nails prickling his skin through the fabric, palm _pushing_ him to force him even further against the wall. He was trembling, literally whimpering repeatedly into Yifan’s mouth as the man _devoured_ him. Yifan kissed him with no mercy, tasting every inch of him he could reach, licking his way behind his teeth and along the crevices of his mouth.

All of a sudden, he felt too hot, like he was absolutely burning up from the inside-out.

There were teeth on his lower lip then, biting and pulling and Junmyeon could feel blood bursting on his tongue, overwhelming him with the taste of copper. His knees were practically knocking together at this point, hands scrambling, hooking into the front of Yifan’s shirt as he heard a baritone _growl_ leave Yifan’s mouth in response.

Yifan broke away from him then, and, panting pathetically, Junmyeon looked up at him as he pried his eyes open. Blood spotting the corner of his mouth, lips puffy and red, Junmyeon just blinked, thrown for a loop as he took in the sight of Yifan’s chest heaving underneath his shirt and his cheeks flushed pink.

“If this is about those women,” Yifan started, leaning back down. His breath was ghosting over Junmyeon’s mouth, “then forget about them. I want you. Nothing but you. Do you understand me?”

Junmyeon just nodded several times, unable to get his voice to work. His palms were sweating. His stomach felt like it was twisting up. He felt like he was roasting underneath his sweater.

He swallowed, licking blood off his lip, and then noticed the people staring at them as they walked past. But Junmyeon didn’t care, too distracted by the strange reaction his body was having.

* * *

“You’re finally back,” Sehun announced the second Junmyeon walked into their dorm room. Junmyeon just nodded, kicking his shoes off as he set his bags down atop of his desk. Sehun, perched on his bed and watching something on his phone, sat up a bit more to give Junmyeon a raised eyebrow. “Last time I checked, you didn’t own a sweater like that.”

Junmyeon blanked out for a second, trying to comprehend what Sehun meant, before it dawned on him. He glanced down, cheeks reddening as he realized he was still wearing the sweater he had borrowed from Yifan. There was no possible way to lie and say it was for himself. The sleeves were so long all that could be seen were the tips of his fingers, and the neckline was horribly big on him as well. It was several sizes too large, and it was plainly obvious.

“I needed a change of clothes and had to borrow something,” Junmyeon admitted, not making eye contact with Sehun as he said that.

“Oh?” Sehun asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Why?”

“Not like that! Don’t be gross!” Junmyeon whined, grabbing a pillow off his bed and hurling it at his roommate with no mercy. “I spent the night and didn’t want to wear the same thing I wore the day before.”

“Well, hey, if you shared the bed with him, you’re one step closer to you-know-what,” Sehun teased, winking as him for a second, before his face clouded over with puzzlement. “I know this isn’t my place to ask, so if you want me to shut up, tell me, but… Do you plan on sleeping with him someday? Or…?”

Junmyeon, cheeks ablaze, dropped his phone in surprise. “W-Why would you even ask me that?! I just spent the night! And we just hung out! It’s not like—“

“Junmyeon, calm down! Jesus, I’m not trying to interrogate you or anything and I don’t really care what you two were up to. I don’t want all the details of your love life, and especially not your sex life,” Sehun quickly interrupted. “I’m just curious. You were with your exes for ages and never did anything with them. So I’m just wondering if you’re ever planning on finally, ya know, _doing_ it.”

“Um. Well… If he loves me,” Junmyeon started meekly, and he already knew that Yifan _did_ love him. Step one: check. “And I guess if…ya know…I’m into him like that, or whatever…”

“ _Are_ you into him like that, or whatever?” Sehun asked, genuine curiosity in his voice as he stared at Junmyeon.

Junmyeon hesitated for much too long. Was he? He wasn’t sure. He licked his lips, ignoring the way the blood had clotted in the corner from Yifan biting him earlier. “I… I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Sehun asked as he sat up completely, tossing his phone aside. “Come on, it’s obvious! You had attraction for people before, right?”

Junmyeon stopped to think about it. Nothing really rang a bell. And apparently it showed on his face just how confused he was, because Sehun was just _staring_ at him.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me. You’ve never been sexually attracted to _anyone_? Not even your exes?” Sehun asked in disbelief.

“I don’t know! How would I even know that?” Junmyeon asked, meaning, without a doubt, that no, he hadn’t ever been attracted to anyone in his life. “Am I supposed to feel something?”

“Didn’t you take sex ed in high school?” Sehun muttered, rolling his eyes. “Okay, look, I’m not gonna sit here and give you the birds and the bees talk like I’m your dad or something. That’d be too weird, even for us. But yeah, you’ll feel something.”

“Something like…?” Junmyeon asked innocently.

“Do I need to sit here and spell it out for you?” Sehun spluttered, taken aback. When Junmyeon didn’t answer, Sehun sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “Okay—So. I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase ‘hot and bothered’ before, yes? You might feel like that. And if you start thinking about someone doing some rather not safe for work things to you and it gets you hard, way to go, that’s even better.”

“Not safe for work?” Junmyeon murmured. “What is th—oh. _Oh._ You mean…?”

“Sex? Yes.” Sehun replied, unable to help but frown. It felt like he was in middle school again, talking to his friends about sex and girls as if they knew everything. “Man, you have some serious work to do. Read. Watch some videos. Daydream or something. You can figure this out. You’re twenty, right?”

Well, that was true, and it made it even more embarrassing. He was twenty years old and wasn’t sure what sexual attraction even felt like. Obviously he had never been into his exes, not like that, but was he into Yifan? He bit his lip. Sure, there had been the times where Yifan kissed him too hard or made certain noises and it made Junmyeon feel a bit warm and his insides kind of weird. Did that count?

He honestly had no idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 10 Feb 2017


	24. Replica

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ REPLICA ]_
> 
> _a copy or reproduction_

Midterm week had to have been one of the most stressful times of his college career so far. Junmyeon knew just how much weight the exams carried, and that at the end of the day, they could make or break him especially in terms of his final grade in his classes. He could not remember a time where he had studied this much or this hard. He kept his head buried in his textbooks for what felt like a century, and despite all his time spent reviewing his subjects and materials, he couldn’t shake away his nerves as he sat there in his desk, taking his midterm exams.

He tried his best, and he could only hope his best was good enough.

Even when his written exams were completed, it didn’t mean his stresses were over just yet. After all, aside from waiting for his grades to be released from his exams, he still needed to get through his very first portfolio review with Yifan for his introduction to painting class. He knew that Yifan was not nearly as much of a mean person as everyone labeled him, but Junmyeon _also_ knew that Yifan had no issues with speaking his mind. He could easily recall how many comments Yifan had left on the rubric attached to his old paintings that he had turned in, and he could remember Yifan bluntly calling out other kids in his class regarding their mistakes as well. Yifan was not a cold-blooded man, but he did not bother to hold his tongue when it came to opinions. He could only hope that Yifan would go easy on him.

Thinking about his upcoming portfolio review was definitely nerve-wracking. It was Friday, the final day of midterm week. Yifan had mentioned that since he had portfolio reviews for printmaking during midterm week, reviews for introduction to painting would be the week after midterms. Due to the number of students in the class and the amount of time and work that went into portfolio reviews, Yifan had told them already that classes all of next week would be cancelled. In exchange, students were to set up an appointment with Yifan in his office for their review. Considering their current projects were due the Monday right after portfolio review week, Junmyeon already knew that Yifan was expecting them to continue to work outside of class, that just because he cancelled classes for reviews, it didn’t mean there wasn’t any work to be done.

Junmyeon’s review was first thing Monday morning. He had been one of the last people to sign up, so slots were limited. The sign-up sheets taped to the chalkboard were nearly already entirely filled up with other names, and Junmyeon let his eyes scan the pages one day after class as he chewed on his lower lip in thought. All of the afternoon slots were taken for next week, and after some mental debating, Junmyeon at last bit the bullet and decided to sign up for Monday morning.

He wasn’t sure if that was a good idea or a bad one, but he supposed he would find out soon enough.

There wasn’t much change in lecture compared to the days before. Junmyeon was setting up his easel. The class was a quiet murmur as everyone else tinkered with their paintings that Friday morning, setting up their workspaces for the day’s painting session. They had started working on the assignment Wednesday, so there was plenty of work to still be done this early in the game.

Sure, lecture itself was the same, but there was one big difference inside the classroom.

Junmyeon could always tell when Yifan had arrived. The room hushed almost instantly, signaled by the sound of a closing door, coupled with the secure _click_ of a lock. Yifan was not a heavy person but his footsteps were, loud and lumbering due to how he always seemed to limp a bit when he walked. Despite how long they had known each other – and how long they had been dating now – Junmyeon was still not adjusted to seeing how Yifan carefully measured his footsteps, walking a certain way as if it would help alleviate his pain, muscles and joints and limbs stiff as could be.

Junmyeon had not been anticipating anything different. When the door closed noisily and the lock tumbled, Junmyeon, out of habit, glanced up, expecting to see Yifan staggering across the front of the room like always. Nothing more, and nothing less. And indeed, that was what he found, watching Yifan walk slowly to his spot at the front of the classroom, but there was a big difference, one that had Junmyeon and the entire student body silent.

Junmyeon had never seen Yifan wear that outfit before, and it blew him away entirely.

Yifan typically wore slacks to class. On Friday lectures – and weekends – Yifan wore jeans. It wasn’t like this was Junmyeon’s first time seeing Yifan wearing them. But every time he had seen Yifan in a pair of jeans, they were always a wash of standard denim, a little baggy on him too. These, on the other hand, were dark, pitch black in color, and Junmyeon couldn’t help but notice that they were _tight._ Yifan didn’t have much in the back to show off and Junmyeon knew that. After all, Yifan had teased him before, overdramatically sighing and saying that it wasn’t fair that Junmyeon was the only one to have an ass in their relationship. But Yifan had long, strong legs, and Junmyeon’s mouth felt abnormally dry as he noticed how the dark fabric, complete with little gashes in the kneecaps, clung so closely to his thighs. It made his legs look longer than usual, thicker even, and Junmyeon could not tear his eyes away.

It wasn’t like his top half was any better. Junmyeon had seen Yifan topless multiple times already and was plenty aware of his height, so he knew that Yifan was not the smallest or skinniest guy in the world. But right then, Yifan’s clothing fit him perfectly, clinging to his body in the most perfect of ways to show off the length of his torso and make him appear slimmer than usual. Junmyeon had seen Yifan in form-fitting or tight clothing very few times, and this instance took his breath away just like those moments in the past. Clad in a snug white button-up shirt and a red faux leather jacket, Yifan looked absolutely _nothing_ like the professor who had previously shuffled into class in tacky t-shirts and old flannel. The differences were down to the littlest details, from how Yifan had meticulously styled his hair, slicking it up, down to the black boots he had picked out that harbored no similarities to his collection of beat-up sneakers or neon colored shoes. Yifan always wore accessories, so that should not have surprised him; and yet, the way the glimmer of jewelry combined with that outfit sucked the air right out of his lungs.

And apparently it did the same to everyone else, because the classroom was dead silent.

Yifan, in the process of setting down his thermos, furrowed his brow in displeasure as he glanced up to face his students. “What are you lot gawking at? Do you not have enough work to do?”

That was enough to get everyone to move. Junmyeon, along with the remainder of the class, fumbled around for their supplies as they turned their gazes away from Yifan. The professor merely rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he continued to get settled.

Even though he was supposed to be working, Junmyeon just couldn’t focus. With his easel and canvas already prepared, Junmyeon was tinkering with one bottle of paint. Working on removing the cap, Junmyeon wasn’t even paying attention to what he was doing, eyes instead glued to Yifan as the man shuffled around the front of the room.

He could hear whispers, squeezed out from the corners of gossiping mouths.

“I have a question,” one of the girls sitting in the row of desks behind him started, speaking to her seatmate. “Has Kris always looked like this?”

“What do you mean by ‘this’? Clothing-wise or appearance-wise, the answer is still no,” a second female voice commented. “Why, what are you trying to say?”

“Nothing! He just looks different. That’s all,” the first girl mumbled. “And, well, is it just me or does he suddenly look kinda hot?”

“Sooyoung! You can’t just _say_ something like that,” the other female squawked in a hushed voice. There was a small _smack_ then and Junmyeon could only guess it was Sooyoung getting smacked on the arm by her friend. “He’s our teacher, you pervert.”

“You don’t think she has a point though, Hyerin?” A third voice then commented. Junmyeon recognized it as the girl who sat right behind him; Jinah, if he remembered correctly. “He looks like a completely different person. I wonder what’s got him dressing so nice all of a sudden?”

“Ooh, maybe he’s dating someone,” Sooyoung chirped excitedly, tapping the handle of her paintbrush against the surface of her desk. “Maybe his new girlfriend got tired of his clothing choices. She has good taste though.”

Well, that was comforting, in a warped sort of way. Struggling to hold still and not to eavesdrop, Junmyeon could feel his face threatening to turn red, heating up in a mixture of embarrassment and nerves. It felt nice, knowing he had good taste in clothes. After all, that outfit was something _he_ had helped Yifan pick out when they had gone shopping together, but Yifan had never bothered to try it all on at once. Even so, the girls were hitting the nail on the head a bit too much, and Junmyeon was uncomfortably squirming in his seat, unsure of where to put his eyes. He couldn’t focus on his painting when he was listening to that conversation and Yifan was standing at the front of the room like that.

“I highly doubt Kris has a girlfriend. He has the personality of a rock,” Jinah argued with a small huff. “I don’t think Kris likes women anyway.”

“What makes you say that?” Hyerin asked.

“Hello? Lime green sneakers,” Jinah replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What straight guy owns and wears _lime green_ shoes? Combine his fashion sense with the fact that he’s awkward as hell around girls, and—“

“Kris is awkward around _everyone_ ,” Hyerin interrupted, struggling to shush her friend and keep her own voice down so that Yifan would not overhear their conversation. “Not just girls. He isn’t very good with socializing in general. It’s not a gender thing.”

“He’s extra awkward around women though! Remember that time I went to visit him in his office to ask him about my painting? He acted like he didn’t even know where to put his eyes when he was talking to me,” Sooyoung drawled. “He kept boring holes into my forehead. Like, he wouldn’t make direct eye contact with me, and he didn’t once look at anything besides my face. I had on one of my nicest outfits too and he didn’t even _try_ to look!”

“Seeing that he’s a _professor_ , I’d certainly hope he didn’t try to look at your chest. That’d be weird and gross, even for him,” Hyerin replied, scrunching up her nose.

“Maybe he’s not into boobs,” Jinah commented. “Maybe he’s into butts. Or, again, my theory: he’s gay. Either way, something is up if he’s suddenly dressing nice when he’s been dressing like he’s homeless since we started the semester.”

Too deep in his eavesdropping, Junmyeon had blindly thumbed open the cap to one of his tubes of paint. Not paying attention to what he was doing, eyes flicked upwards to cast a glance at Yifan as he heard the trio of girls behind him gossiping and giggling, Junmyeon made a rather pathetic attempt of squirting some paint onto his palette. Unsurprisingly, he missed, and let out a loud and unflattering squawking noise as red paint wound up splattering all over his desk and onto his shirt.

And while his noisiness had successfully snagged the attention of the girls behind him, and several others sitting near them, along with Yifan, who had paused in painting to stare at Junmyeon over the rims of his reading glasses, there was one person who had been staring at him the entire time. That single person was Yixing, who was _still_ eyeballing Junmyeon, lips pursed together and eyebrows drawn inward as suspicion swelled in his stomach.

There was definitely something going on with Junmyeon, and Yixing was sure of it.

* * *

_Junmyeon (4:37 PM)  
I’m so glad midterms are over @-@_

_Yifan (4:38 PM)_  
Me too. It’s been a crazy week, that’s for sure.  
I just need to get through portfolio reviews for your class  
and I’ll finally be able to breathe again.  
But speaking of crazy, here’s a question:  
what was with you today?

_Junmyeon (4:38 PM)  
Eh? What do you mean? :O_

_Yifan (4:39 PM_  
)Don’t play dumb with me, Junmyeon.  
I may have hyperopia but I’m not blind.  
You were staring at me like crazy during lecture today.

_Junmyeon (4:39 PM)  
I was not! ;;_

_Yifan (4:40 PM)_  
Yes you were  
You and I both know you suck at being subtle.  
Every time I glanced up you were staring at me.  
You looked like a fish out of water the way you kept gaping.

 _Junmyeon (4:40 PM)_  
You just looked…nice, okay? Different.  
In a good way.

 _Yifan (4:40 PM)_  
So what I’m gathering from all this is that  
you saw something that you liked? ;-)

_Junmyeon (4:41 PM)  
Don’t say things like that!!_

_Yifan (4:41 PM)_  
Why not? If you think I looked handsome the least  
you could do is stroke my ego a bit and tell me.  
You’re the one who kept saying the new clothes  
make me look like a different person, right?  
So I’m assuming that you enjoy looking at the new me.  
;-) ;-) ;---)

 _Junmyeon (4:42 PM)_  
Stop sending me winky faces!! ;;  
And FINE, you looked good, okay?  
Does that make you happy?

 _Yifan (4:43 PM)_  
Not as happy as I am to hear my boyfriend  
being honest with himself.  
Still, knowing that you think I’m sexy is a good feeling too.

_Junmyeon (4:43 PM)  
That is NOT what I said._

_Yifan (4:44 PM)_  
Oh? So you DON’T think I’m sexy?  
Well, ouch, my pride is officially wounded.  
This is the ultimate betrayal.

Well, one thing was for sure, Yifan was still plenty capable of being extremely overdramatic, even when he was stressed. Chuckling under his breath, cheeks dusted the smallest bit of pink in embarrassment from their conversation, Junmyeon couldn’t help but smile down at the screen of his phone. No one was perfect, and neither was Yifan, but despite the man’s flaws, Junmyeon couldn’t deny his fondness for him. If anything, his quirks just made Junmyeon like him even more.

Nibbling on his lower lip, debating on how to reply to Yifan’s text, Junmyeon paused for a moment to glance up from his phone and survey his surroundings. The dining hall didn’t open until after five, and Junmyeon didn’t feel like walking back to his dorm, only to have to turn around and walk right back to the building. In the meantime, he was waiting in the lounging area, sitting at a table tucked away near the corner of the room. It was a Friday night, so it was rather busy; the other tables were filled with students watching sports on the TV that was mounted on the wall, a group busy playing games at another, and a lot of other kids just sitting around and talking with their friends.

Junmyeon was waiting on his own friends at the moment, killing time by texting Yifan. Yixing and Sehun had texted him a few minutes ago and said that they had just left the dance hall, so they would arrive soon. Zitao was on his way as well, and Junmyeon wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t heard from Jongin. He always forgot to send texts, and was even more forgetful when it came to replying to ones that others had sent him.

But they would all arrive soon enough, and then they could all cram into their usual table in the dining hall for dinner. Junmyeon didn’t mind waiting.

There was, however, one thing that Junmyeon did mind. It just took him a while to realize it. As he sat there at his table texting Yifan, Junmyeon could not shake the sensation that he was being watched. The first time he had paused in his typing to glance upwards, thinking that maybe he was just being paranoid. However, there had been a boy, two tables away, that had been staring right at him. When Junmyeon glanced up, the other male immediately looked away, as if embarrassed he had been caught.

It wouldn’t have been so weird, except for the fact that it _kept happening._

Junmyeon had honestly lost count of how many times he had caught the strange boy staring at him from a few tables away, and it was making him extremely uncomfortable. The guy was just like him too, sitting alone, cradling his phone in his hands to keep himself busy. Still, it gave him no reason to keep staring, and a big chunk of Junmyeon wanted to march over to the guy and say something, but he knew he wouldn’t. Junmyeon was not the confrontational type. He was, however, still highly uneasy. It was one reason he finally needed to move, stooping over in his seat for one brief second to grab his backpack before hurriedly standing up, clumsily pushing his chair in against the table. He could duck into the restroom right quick; hopefully by the time he came back out his friends would be in the building. He didn’t want to be anywhere near _that_ guy anymore so that he could be ogled even more.

Bag slung over his shoulder and phone gripped in one hand, Junmyeon began to scurry away from the longue area. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he never heard a pitter patter of small but quick footsteps behind him. He was halfway to the restroom when something suddenly seized him by the wrist, and Junmyeon just _barely_ managed not to shriek as he came to a skidded stop.

He immediately twisted around, lips already parted to spit out his confused but angered words, but his mouth clicked shut as he realized who was standing behind him, holding onto him. It was that same guy, eyes round and unblinking as he stared down at Junmyeon.

A chill ran down Junmyeon’s spine instantly.

“What is your _problem?”_ Junmyeon at last managed to say, eyes narrowing as he yanked his arm sideways, and successfully managed to free himself from the stranger’s grasp. “First you keep staring at me for the past half an hour, and then you run up behind me and grab me?! Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but you need to knock it o—“

“Do you not remember me?” the stranger asked, interrupting Junmyeon’s rant.

His baritone voice didn’t seem like it fit his appearance. After being taken aback for a brief second, Junmyeon scowled. “I’ve never met you before in my life. Don’t put your hands on me. And do us both a favor and stop staring at me.”

“Junmyeon,” the man said then, and Junmyeon felt yet another shiver run down his back, because how did this stranger know his name? But that was the last thought on his mind as he, while trying to walk away, was seized yet again by the wrist. The grip was tighter this time, large fingers squeezed around him, as if daring him to try to walk away again. “It’s me. Chanyeol. Remember?”

The world came crashing down upon him.

Junmyeon just stood there for a long moment, mouth opening and closing a few times as he struggled to process what was happening. Chanyeol was still holding him tightly by one wrist, staring down at him with those eyes that seemed a little too glazed, and Junmyeon then realized the feeling inside of him.

Fear.

Junmyeon’s body jolted back to life then, squirming and twisting, trying to tear himself loose. Alarm bells roared in his brain; this was the dangerous man, this was the man who had tried to take advantage of him, this was the man who had tried to force him into things he didn’t want, this was the man who had unrightfully stolen a kiss from him, and this was the man who had nearly ruined his relationship.

“Let me go,” Junmyeon ordered, voice trembling as he dug the nails of his free hand into Chanyeol’s own, clawing at him in an attempt of making the bigger male release him.

“Junmyeon, wait, let me explain,” Chanyeol babbled, every word spoken in that low voice making Junmyeon feel even colder and every second of his touch making him even more disgusted. “That night was a mistake. I didn’t mean it. I like you, I really like you, let me make it up to you, I can show you that I’m sorry—“

“You can make it up to me by letting me _go!_ ” Junmyeon shrieked. The situation was earning several stares from the other students, several who were whispering to each other as they tried to figure out what was going on. Junmyeon’s heartbeat was erratic in his chest with panic, nails officially drawing blood from the back of Chanyeol’s hand as he scratched and clawed. “I said let _go of me!”_

“Hey, man, stop bothering him,” someone said, and Junmyeon could just make out the shape of another male putting a hand on Chanyeol’s shoulder through his vision that was blurred from tears. He didn’t know when he had started crying, but he _was_ , having a complete and utter panic attack. “He told you to let him go, now let him go!”

A few men had interjected, attempting to separate the two, but Chanyeol wasn’t having it, still clutching Junmyeon by the wrist for dear life. Junmyeon was bawling as he heard a mixture of voices, some yelling, some asking if they should call the police, some ordering. One male was getting into an argument with Chanyeol now, pushing him, and Junmyeon felt like he was suffocating.

And then, out of nowhere, a black boot went plowing into the back of Chanyeol’s right knee with a brutal amount of force. There were shouts then, and it took Junmyeon a second to realize he was at last free of that disgusting hand that had been holding onto him. There was a flurry of movement, and through his teary eyes, Junmyeon watched a hand suddenly seize Chanyeol by the hair. Chanyeol had already lost his balance and had been stunned by being kicked in the back of the leg, so when the hand fisted into his hair, he didn’t stand a chance. He was suddenly shoved to the tiled floor right on his face, only seconds before another male bent over him, digging one strong knee into the center of Chanyeol’s back to hold him in place.

“I already told you to keep your goddamn hands off of my friend, you piece of _shit!”_ The male was bellowing, and as he slowly came down from the rush of adrenaline, Junmyeon realized he could recognize that face anywhere. It was Zitao, features warped in fury as he kept Chanyeol pinned down to the floor. “I told you that if you went near him ever again that I was going to skin your disgusting ass _alive!_ Did you think I was joking?! Do I need to beat some fucking sense into that nasty skull of yours?!”

Things from then on were a blur. It wasn’t much longer before Sehun and Yixing arrived, quickly launching into a state of panic themselves as they huddled around Junmyeon, checking him for injuries and thankfully finding nothing but the soreness in Junmyeon’s wrist that was surely going to lead to bruises later. The adrenaline rush had completely wiped him out; dizzy and suddenly exhausted, Junmyeon let himself be manhandled, not objecting to the way Yixing and Sehun helped him sit down on one of the nearby chairs and cooed over him to ensure he was alright.

He couldn’t remember that one unfortunate night and he couldn’t recall what had happened when his friends had realized what was happening. And sitting there on the uncomfortable chair, face red and blotchy, eyes itchy and wet, Junmyeon couldn’t help but wonder if this same sort of thing had happened before. Had Zitao been this angry that night? Had Sehun been this worried? Had other people tried to protect him? If all of those things were the same, then how could he have allowed this sort of thing to happen a second time?

A knot swelled in his throat, warning him he was on the verge of breaking into tears yet again. Chin wrinkling as he tried to hold it in, lower lip wobbling, Junmyeon didn’t know how to even begin to respond to Yixing’s worried questions as to what was wrong.

* * *

Yifan never had visitors. Aside from Luhan who popped up every once in a blue moon to try to drag him out of his apartment, and the mailman who brought him his packages, Yifan could not list anyone else who would randomly swing by his building to see him.

It was one reason why, halfway through a bag of chips and sprawled out on his couch while watching TV, Yifan violently jumped when there was a sudden knock on his door. Pieces of chip went flying, decorating the cushions of his couch, his shirt, his carpet. Yifan let out a few muffled curses, mentally noting to himself to clean up the mess after he saw who was standing on the other side of his front door. Picking a potato chip off his shirt, Yifan bit into it as he shuffled across his living room and into the entranceway.

He paused in chewing, however, as he pulled the door open to find Junmyeon on the other side.

“Junmyeon?” Yifan asked, confusion and concern etching into his face as he swallowed the remaining food in his mouth. Junmyeon wouldn’t make eye contact with him, gaze instead slightly lowered and boring into Yifan’s chest. “Hey, look at me while I’m talking to you. What are you doing here at this hour? Our date is tomorrow, not tonight.”

“I’m sorry. I know I should’ve asked you first before I came over here. It’s just…” Junmyeon started, still refusing to look Yifan in the eye. His voice was horribly small. “I-I just had to get off campus for a while.”

Yifan was already ushering the other inside, getting him out of the cold, before he even asked the questions that were lingering in his mind. “Please tell me you didn’t walk here, as freezing as it is outside.”

“Just from the bus stop down the street to here,” Junmyeon replied, toeing off his shoes and shedding his backpack. “Yifan, I’m really sorry—“

“Hush. You should already know by now I don’t mind. Let me do the talking for now,” Yifan interrupted, taking Junmyeon’s coat out of his hands as soon as Junmyeon had managed to shed it. “Now, really, what happened? You act like something is bugging you, and something _must_ be if you came all the way over here.”

Junmyeon remained silent in response, and Yifan sighed slowly through his nose, pursing his lips together thoughtfully.

“Did you eat?” Yifan then asked instead, earning a couple confused blinks from Junmyeon as the other at last glanced up at him. “It’s getting late. Did you eat yet?”

Junmyeon winced before shaking his head slightly, eyes immediately falling again. He was hiding something, and Yifan could already tell. “I was going to, but… Um…”

“I can make you something,” Yifan offered, not missing a beat. “Would that cheer you up a bit? What are you in the mood for?”

“Yifan, I really don’t feel like eating right now, okay?” Junmyeon interrupted, unintentionally snapping at Yifan as he spoke. Yifan blinked, taken aback by the change in behavior, and Junmyeon curled in on himself, crossing his arms over his chest as if trying to defend himself. “I’m sorry, okay? I know I’m acting weird and I’m not trying to be mean to you. It’s just… I…”

Yifan’s eyes widened as Junmyeon abruptly burst into tears for the second time that day.

“Whoa, whoa, Junmyeon, calm down! What’s with the waterworks?” Yifan babbled, clearly flustered himself, and it made Junmyeon feel even worse to hear Yifan so worried. Hiccupping as he struggled and failed to stop crying, Junmyeon just stood there with trembling shoulders as Yifan reached out to swipe two large thumbs over the apples of his cheeks, rubbing his tears away the best he could. Yifan’s forehead was dimpled, lips pulled down in a concerned frown, eyes glazed over with worry as he bent his knees a little to try to get eye level to Junmyeon. “Junmyeon, you need to talk to me. What’s the matter? Did something happen?”

Throat bobbing pathetically, Junmyeon tried to get his vocal cords to work, but all that came out was one crackly word. “C-Chanyeol.”

“That punk from the party?” Yifan asked, his voice nothing more than a croak. When Junmyeon nodded mutely, Yifan froze then, hands still, thumbs still pressed against Junmyeon’s cheeks. There was a glimmer in his eyes, a mixture of emotions that screamed worry, discomfort, _anger._ But Yifan’s hands did not change, still gentle against his skin, fingertips twitching. “What did he do to you?”

Junmyeon told him. He cried, harder than before, a big blubbering mess as he told Yifan everything. He rambled about Chanyeol watching him, Chanyeol grabbing him, the anxiety and pure panic that exploded inside of him when he found out who Chanyeol was, and even more so when Chanyeol wouldn’t let him go.

And upset as he was, he felt so _stupid._

“Why am I so weak, Yifan?” Junmyeon mumbled, sniveling as he stood there in the entranceway of Yifan’s apartment. Yifan was hugging him, those long arms wrapped around him so wonderfully tight. It was like Yifan was made for him, a puzzle piece just a little too big that allowed Junmyeon to fit his own pieces inside and into the gaps. Head tucked into the soft space between Yifan’s breastbone and his shoulder blade, Junmyeon sniffed, a few remaining tears managing to squeeze out of his eyes and soak into the fabric of Yifan’s t-shirt. “I couldn’t protect myself the first time, and then I couldn’t even get free the second time.”

“You aren’t weak, Junmyeon,” Yifan said softly. Junmyeon could feel his lips pressing kisses into his hairline in attempts of comforting him. “Chanyeol is bigger and stronger than you, and that doesn’t make you weak. The first time you were drunk and this time you had a panic attack. Neither of those are helpful in keeping your senses about you for self-defense.”

Junmyeon picked his head up just long enough so that he could wipe his eyes with one little fist. His voice was just above that of a whimper. “I’m a crybaby.”

“You aren’t a crybaby either,” Yifan replied patiently, calmly. “You were scared. And now you’re upset. Yes? Both are perfectly valid reasons to cry.”

He knew Yifan was trying to help him, but Junmyeon just felt even worse. He lifted his head then to make eye contact with Yifan, eyes bloodshot, cheeks blotched, chin wrinkled as if his body was on the cusp of bursting into a new wave of tears. “Why do you put up with me?”

“I don’t ‘put up with you’, Junmyeon. I love you,” Yifan mumbled, tilting his head a little to one side as he let one palm cradle Junmyeon’s jaw. “That’s a whole lot different than just putting up with someone.”

Junmyeon sniffed again, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Eyes downcast in shame, Junmyeon’s voice was so much softer now, ashamed and unsure. “Yifan, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—“

“Don’t even start,” Yifan interrupted, lips twisting to one side. “There’s nothing to apologize for, Junmyeon, do you understand me?”

_“Why do you always cry so damn much? You’re such a baby. I thought I was dating a teenager, not some whiny little kid.” “You talk too much. Next time someone asks what my boyfriend is like I’ll tell them you’re a loudmouth. It’s the truth after all.” “Well of course you don’t have any real friends, Junmyeon. Why would they want to be friends with you? I can’t even find the appeal in you, and that’s saying something if your own father can’t even find anything worthwhile in you.”_

Junmyeon looked like he wanted to argue, but after lifting his gaze to find Yifan staring at him, serious as could be, Junmyeon simply closed his mouth again and tried to ignore the torrent of negative thoughts that were churning around in his brain.

Despite it all, the right corner of Yifan’s mouth twitched into the tiniest of smiles, one hand rising for a second to give Junmyeon’s mess of wine-colored hair a small ruffle before dragging him into a big, warm hug. And with his head buried deep in Yifan’s chest, Junmyeon could not recall a time in which he had experienced a hug that felt so much like home.

He couldn’t stop himself from reaching up to tangle his arms around Yifan’s torso, hugging him back as tightly as he could, as if scared that letting go would make the man vanish entirely.

* * *

When he thought back on it, Junmyeon couldn’t exactly remember _why_ he had decided to head to Yifan’s apartment. Sure, Yifan was his boyfriend, but there had to have been more to it than their relationship status. After all, despite the problems in his past and his current issues, Junmyeon had never told anyone else about them. Yifan was the only one who knew, and Junmyeon had never minded telling Yifan about himself. Yifan knew about his family problems, his school problems, and he was sure Yifan already knew about his mental and emotional problems. Junmyeon didn’t think there was anything particularly _wrong_ with him mentally, but he had an extremely negative thought process and the self-esteem to match.

Yifan had pointed that out to him before and he definitely didn’t bother to bite his tongue that night about it either.

_“You apologize too much,” Yifan gently told him, pressing a soft kiss against Junmyeon’s temple. “I know you aren’t very good at standing up for yourself and putting yourself first makes you feel weird, but you need to start doing it more. For someone so amazing, your viewpoint of yourself sure isn’t very high.”_

Junmyeon hadn’t eaten dinner and still refused when Yifan offered to cook him something, but he didn’t turn down the lemon tea that Yifan brewed for him. They curled up on the couch together, a tangle of limbs beneath an old blanket, Junmyeon’s head tucked into the crook of Yifan’s neck and shoulder. He could feel the swell of Yifan’s ribcage rising and falling calmly against his back.

_“There’s no reason I should think highly of myself,” Junmyeon stated, shifting his weight against the couch as Yifan wrapped an arm tightly about his middle to tug him back even closer. “There’s nothing to brag about.”_

_“You aren’t looking hard enough then. How is it that I can see so many good parts of you and you can’t manage to find even one little thing?” Yifan asked rhetorically. “Junmyeon, I mean it, you deserve to put yourself up higher on the totem pole. You’re worth more than you think. You’re far better than you think you are.”_

_“I’m not,” Junmyeon shyly mumbled in response, pressing his chin down against his chest and staring down at his toes as they peeked from the bottom hem of the blanket._

_“You are. You’re wonderful, Junmyeon, you’re so damn amazing, and I mean that,” Yifan said, and Junmyeon couldn’t stop himself from shivering a little as Yifan craned his head down to press a small kiss against the side of his exposed neck. “I don’t know who managed to stuff their own viewpoints into your head to make you think the way you do, but they’re wrong. You’re extremely attractive, Junmyeon. You have a heart of gold. You’re talented. You’re always able to make people feel loved and welcome. You even made_ me _feel at ease all those weeks ago, and I swear, you always manage to make me feel loved, even if you aren’t trying to. You’re worth it and you deserve so much more than what you’ve been handed in this life so far.”_

_Junmyeon didn’t know why, but Yifan’s words made him feel warm from his head to his toes, like someone had lit a candle inside of him. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling a little, shyly, cheeks flushing._

_It felt_ good _to be told those things._

Maybe it had been because of the way Yifan always managed to make him feel. Despite the rumors that settled within the perimeters of the university, Junmyeon knew how Yifan _actually_ was as a person. And one aspect of Yifan’s personality as the fact that aside from being a good listener and being able to serve as an unbiased opinion for his problems, Yifan always knew just the right thing to say to him to turn even the worst of situations around for the better. Yifan was always able to comfort him, to help him pry out the demons lurking in his mind that were drowning him, to just make him feel like he was _worth_ something. Yifan had said many times that he was in love with him, and Junmyeon did not have a single doubt about it anymore.

Yifan loved him and he always made sure that Junmyeon knew it.

Maybe he had just needed someone to talk to that actually understood him. Sehun was nice and all, but Yifan knew him on a deeper level than Sehun and all the others could ever understand. It was easy to tell Yifan about what had happened, finding comfort in his large frame as he cried and clung to him to milk hugs out of him, listening to Yifan’s soft words and chunks of advice. He felt lighter now that he had gotten it off of his chest. Yifan had reassured him, soothing away the worries in his mind that Chanyeol was going to intrude in on his life yet again. And as he listened to all of those things and felt all of his emotions draining out of him as he buried his face in Yifan’s chest and let Yifan squeeze him in his arms, Junmyeon knew he had made the perfect choice by coming to see him.

He didn’t want to leave, if he was being honest with himself.

And that night, he didn’t. Junmyeon found himself nestled in Yifan’s bed once again on a Friday night, curled up beneath the soft blankets that were marked with the scent of Yifan’s skin. It made him feel high, intoxicated in the weirdest of ways as he just let the comforting smell of _Yifan_ fill his body.

But the lingering smell was not nearly as good as the fresh and current one, Junmyeon came to find out.

He was stirred awake at three in the morning when Yifan clambered into bed. Sleepy and incoherent, Junmyeon rolled over, eyes open meager millimeters as he found Yifan getting into bed with him. Maybe it was the exhaustion or lack of sleep that made him do it, but upon seeing Yifan clambering into bed with him, Junmyeon immediately rolled over, gluing himself against Yifan’s larger body.

_“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Yifan whispered, making himself comfortable. Sprawled out on one side, facing Junmyeon, there was only a moment of stillness before Junmyeon wiggled closer to him, attaching himself to Yifan’s front like a piece of Velcro. “Just go back to sleep.”_

_“’hould sleep sooner,” Junmyeon mumbled at him, not making very much sense. His voice was slurred, face buried into Yifan’s chest. He had curled in on himself, legs tied in a knot around one of Yifan’s own, too sleepy to care that Yifan’s thigh was officially pressed up between his legs. Somehow or another, despite how little sense Junmyeon was making at the moment, Yifan knew the boy was referring to his rather pathetic sleeping schedule. “’S not good for—“_

_Junmyeon was interrupted by a yawn, eyes already drooping shut again as he sagged into the mattress. Yifan just laughed quietly under his breath, wiggling for a second and at last managing to get comfortable . Sleeping could be tricky at times; positions definitely mattered when it came to his back pain. Sleeping ‘wrong’ was a surefire way to give him a flare-up._

_He couldn’t remember falling asleep, but he did, succumbing to darkness once again as Yifan stroked his fingers through his hair._

Daylight came eventually, and as usual, Junmyeon was the first awake. He stirred a bit, grunting under his breath as his lower back popped in objection to how he was awkwardly twisted at the waist. He still felt groggy and sleepy, yawning as he glanced over at Yifan. The art professor had one arm looped about Junmyeon’s hips in a death grip, face mushed against the bed as if he was trying to burrow into it. Junmyeon could only see half of it, smiling tiredly as he noticed how Yifan’s mouth hung open as he breathed deeply in a heavy sleep.

He could maneuver Yifan’s arm just enough to wiggle and slide out of bed if he wanted to, but Junmyeon didn’t really _feel_ like it. The bed was warm. Yifan was fast asleep and he did’t want to risk waking him. He was still tired, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had bothered to sleep in on the weekend just because he could.

After lying there for a minute, debating it, Junmyeon at last made up his mind. He shifted over a little, closing the gap between him and Yifan, before placing a simplistic little peck on Yifan’s forehead. Yifan’s face twitched in response, as if questioning the touch, even in his sleep. Junmyeon just laughed softly under his breath, wiggling back down beneath the covers and closing his eyes to block out the sunlight that spilled over Yifan’s bed.

Maybe going to see Yifan after all that had happened yesterday and deciding to spend the night had been a better idea than he had initially thought. As simplistic as it was, lying there in Yifan’s bed with the slumbering art professor, it felt like a blessing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 28 Feb 2017


	25. Baroque

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ BAROQUE ]_
> 
> _extravagant, complex; applied to a style in art and architecture that emphasized dramatic, often strained effect and typified by bold, curving forms, elaborate ornamentation, and overall balance of disparate parts_

Their table in the dining hall had been awkwardly quiet Friday night. After the events that had escalated beforehand, and the fact that Junmyeon had gotten so upset that he had backed out of eating with them to instead go back to the dorm, a heavy atmosphere filled the space surrounding them. It had been painfully obvious that no one had really known what to say at first, sitting in a thick silence that was only broken by the sound of clinking utensils and the chatter from the other students sitting around them.

At long last, Yixing had been the first one to speak.

“Why didn’t you guys tell me?” Yixing asked, frowning. “Junmyeon is my friend too.”

“It wasn’t really our story to tell,” Sehun replied quietly, distress in his eyes as he stirred his food around with disinterest. Yixing could tell how worried he was. “If Junmyeon wanted people to know, then he’d say something. It’s not really my place or anyone else’s to spread his business around like that.”

Zitao huffed, stabbing into his food. There was a vein still visibly throbbing on the surface of his forehead from how worked up he had gotten. “Pretty sure the world now knows how much of a piece of shit Chanyeol is. I should’ve kicked his ass.”

“You knocked him to the floor and gave him a bloody nose due to how he hit his face on the tile. I’m pretty sure much else beyond that would give you one hell of an assault charge,” Sehun said dryly.

They could practically hear the growl that rumbled in the back of Zitao’s throat. “It’d be worth it. We don’t need garbage like him getting anywhere near Junmyeon, or on campus at all.”

Yixing pulled his lower lip between his teeth, chewing on it in a mixture of thought and guilt. “If I had gone to the party too, I could’ve kept an eye on him… I can’t believe Jongdae introduced this Chanyeol guy to him.”

“It isn’t your fault, Yixing. You should know that,” Sehun replied. He stole a glance at his phone, wondering where Jongin was, and how on earth they were going to explain what had happened when he finally did show. He then noticed he had a text message, discreetly scanning it when he realized it was from Junmyeon. ‘ _I’m spending the night at Yifan’s. Don’t wait up’_ was all it said. It was comforting to see that Junmyeon was feeling pieced together enough to socialize, but it worried him at the same time, because it wasn’t like Junmyeon to head to Yifan’s without previously established plans.

“Well…” Yixing started, looking as if he was about to argue, before he merely sighed. “Either way, I’m going to talk to Jongdae. There are no excuses for something like this.”

Zitao let out a snort. “I already took care of that too. Jongdae’s lucky all he got was an earful from me and not a fist.”

_“Zitao, you need to calm down!” Sehun shouted, currently the only line that barricaded his friend from the rest of the world._

_Yixing was the one watching over Junmyeon, helping wipe his blotched teary face with some tissues and bring him down from the anxiety that still lingered in the cracks of his mind._

_Chanyeol’s nose was bleeding, flowing freely into the palm he had cupped over the cartilage. A few strangers had wedged themselves between Chanyeol and Zitao to keep the two of them separated._

_“I was just trying to tell him I was sorry,” Chanyeol said then, voice muffled as he continued to pinch his nose between two large fingers. “I never meant to hurt him—“_

_“You knew perfectly damn well what you were doing, and you’re only sorry because you got caught!” Zitao screamed, biceps coiling dangerously under Sehun’s grasp. “I already told you to stay away from him!”_

_Chanyeol’s fingers were stained red as he spoke, surrounded by an assortment of other students who were watching the scene unfold. “I just wanted to ask him to give me another chance. I really like him—“_

_“You barely even know him! And some piece of shit like you doesn’t_ deserve _another chance!” Zitao bellowed. “You tried to hurt him once, and the last possible thing on this earth that I would allow is the possibility for you to try to hurt him a second time! So scram, or I’m going to kick your ass up and down this building!”_

There was a thick and uneasy silence at the table then.

“I wish he had come with us,” Zitao then muttered, propping his chin up in one hand and picking at his food with disinterest. “He needs to eat.”

The others murmured in agreement. Sehun tried to brush their concerns away without revealing too much. He could easily recall Junmyeon’s latest text message. Sehun merely told his friends that Junmyeon had headed back to the dorm, and thankfully, everyone seemed to believe it. The last thing he wanted was to try to formulate a chain of lies to continue shielding and hiding Junmyeon’s secret from the knowledge of others.

Now was more crucial than ever.

_“Can I ask you something?” Yixing started, loosely clutching the straps of his backpack. He and Sehun were traveling alongside each other down the sidewalk, headed for the dining hall. “Don’t freak out when I ask you either. Okay?”_

_“Uh… Okay?” Sehun answered, blinking in confusion. “Shoot, I guess.”_

_“Have you noticed Junmyeon acting a little weird or anything recently?” Yixing then asked, frowning. “He’s been really…off lately in class. And it’s usually just in regards to things dealing with Kris.”_

_“Haven’t you asked me something like this before?” Sehun countered as he arched a single eyebrow, scratching his chin thoughtfully. He kept his voice completely calm as he spoke. “Yixing, I think you’re looking too deeply into this.”_

_“I’m not! I’m_ telling _you, something is going on between those two. Junmyeon has been giving him way too much of his focus,” Yixing grumbled. “Junmyeon doesn’t talk about Kris at_ all _?”_

_“No,” Sehun replied, lying right through his teeth._

_Before he could say anything else, Yixing interrupted him with a loud huff. “Well, if you don’t know anything, then I guess I’ll just have to find out some information from the source.”_

It seemed like, for now, the events that had occurred had been enough of a distraction. Yixing had not dared to grill Junmyeon for details after all that had happened with Chanyeol, but Sehun had a sickly feeling that their luck was running thin.

* * *

“It’s supposed to frost tonight,” Junmyeon said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. The air that Saturday morning was absolutely freezing. Junmyeon’s frame looked even smaller than usual, swallowed whole by the clothing he was bundled within, consisting of his sweater and his thickest winter coat. He could see his breath fogging before him as the pair walked down the sidewalk, huddled close together. “I guess it’s officially winter. It’s gotten super cold so early this year. I wonder if that means we’ll get snow soon.”

“I hope the hell not,” Yifan grumbled from beside him. “The last thing I want is that garbage.”

Startled by the sudden attitude, Junmyeon just stared at Yifan for a second in surprise, absently rubbing his red and damp nose with the back of his hand. Yifan was glowering underneath his beanie, shoulders scrunched inward, and his frame shaking inside of his coat.

Junmyeon cracked a smile then, eyes twinkling. “Sounds to me like _somebody_ is a bit of a baby regarding the cold.”

Yifan furrowed his eyebrows unhappily. “I’m not a baby. I just hate the cold.”

“So… Am I supposed to act like you’re not whining right now, or what?” Junmyeon teased, cracking a grin. Yifan merely pursed his lips together in response, eyes curving into mirthful crescents as he scowled. Junmyeon laughed then, giving Yifan a playful nudge. “Come on, don’t be such a sourpuss. I’m only kidding.”

“Well, I’m not,” Yifan replied dryly, expression not altering in the slightest. “I hate the cold immensely. If winter ceased to exist I’d throw a party.”

“No offense, but you don’t really seem like the party type of guy to me,” Junmyeon said, voice trailing off for a moment.

It was at times like these that it dawned on him entirely just how little he knew about Yifan and his life. Sure, he had an inkling that Yifan wasn’t a big fan of parties based on how quiet and reclusive he was, but he had no facts to support his claim. He had no idea if Yifan had ever been into parties in the past. He didn’t know how many Yifan had been to in his life before he had decided he didn’t like them. And that was just one topic; the horizons seemed endless when it came to the mysteries surrounding his boyfriend, his likes and dislikes and the assortment of events that had happened in his history.

Yifan merely hummed back at him, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. “I’m not. They’re too noisy and there are always way too many people.”

“Did you go to any in college?” Junmyeon asked curiously, glancing over at Yifan with big and wondering eyes. The two of them were nearly bumping into each other as they walked, huddled close together for warmth in the bitter cold as they traveled down the sidewalk.

“Some. They were okay, I guess,” Yifan replied, stiff shoulders rolling for a second in a shrug. “I guess I just outgrew it. The last party I went to was my sophomore year, if I remember correctly.”

Junmyeon frowned. He knew people changed, but he never thought that someone’s interests could jump so drastically in only two years. If Yifan had gone to parties in the past, he must have enjoyed them to some extent, right? The cogs in his mind were already turning in puzzlement, trying and failing to determine what could have happened for Yifan to lose interest so quickly.

The journey was overall quiet. Junmyeon kept sniffling the entire walk, nose flushed from the cold and starting to drip. Yifan was visibly shivering, tightly clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. Junmyeon actually pitied him at the moment, able to tell that Yifan was currently downright miserable from the cold. How on earth Yifan had survived the drive over to downtown in the icy wind on his motorcycle was beyond Junmyeon’s comprehension.

Unfortunately, things did not always go as planned. Their date had already been a bit of a disaster so far due to unforeseen circumstances. Yifan had wanted to take him to an art exhibition he had heard about online, but due to miscommunication, they missed the event time by a few hours. They had instead tried to duck into a restaurant that Yifan had visited several times in the past to try to get something to eat, only to find the building closed for renovations. Yifan had just stood there for a good five minutes with his head resting against the door, groaning in frustration. Luck was definitely not on their side that cold Saturday, but they were trying to make it work.

“This sucks,” Yifan said bluntly, still scowling as he trekked alongside Junmyeon, leather boots thudding heavily against the concrete. The two of them were in a bit of a rut, trying to find something to do as they traveled down the freezing city streets. “Maybe we should’ve just stayed home.”

“Don’t talk like that. The day is still young! We can find something,” Junmyeon chirped, typical optimism lining his voice as he flashed Yifan a smile, showing off those white teeth. Yifan didn’t argue with him, but Junmyeon could tell by the unhappy twisting of his lips that he really wanted to do so.

‘Something’, as it turned out, as not quite what either of them had been anticipating. The two of them had passed a small café on their journey and had swung inside to receive a break from the cold, and to try to warm themselves up with some drinks. Yifan, unsurprisingly, ordered a coffee, screaming hot that he quickly splashed with creamer. Junmyeon nestled across from him at the table, curled up with his latte. The two of them shared a slice of cake and merely talked, cracking jokes and not caring about the way their knees bumped together underneath the tiny white table.

Cafés, however, were normal. Yifan was a coffee fanatic, and Junmyeon had been into several shops himself since he had started attending university. Cafés practically littered the campus grounds, after all. Coffee and cake were plenty standard to the two of them. However, their current location was definitely not the norm for either one of them.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to come in here,” Yifan said, talking loudly to be heard over the various noises and music emitting from the machines. His black boots contrasted sharply against the bright blues and neon greens of the carpeted floor. “I’m over thirty years old, Junmyeon. Someone like me doesn’t belong in an arcade.”

Despite his obvious hesitance to even _enter_ the building, Yifan could never say no to Junmyeon. Junmyeon had been the first one to notice the arcade, pausing during their journey along the sidewalk to instead tug on Yifan’s sleeve before pointing across the street at the building. Yifan had tried to object immediately after, only for Junmyeon to blatantly ignore him, instead scurrying across the road to get a closer look.

By the time Yifan managed to scuttle across the road in a rather pathetic attempt of catching up with him, slowed down by his bad back, Junmyeon was already huddled against the building with his face nearly crushed against the glass to read a flyer hanging in the window. Junmyeon could be such a kid sometimes, and he acted like one right then too, eyes big and glittery as he spun around to face Yifan, gushing about the advertisement. Yifan wasn’t keen on agreeing to the two of them ducking into the arcade despite the sale; for starters, he felt too big and too old to even go inside, and it didn’t seem anywhere close to a romantic date idea.

But, as usual, Yifan couldn’t object when Junmyeon gave him _that_ look, eyes pleading and wide as he pushed his lips together in a pout. Yifan caved every time without fail, and he did then too, sighing in defeat as Junmyeon grabbed him by one leather-gloved hand and yanked him indoors. And now, well, here he was, awkwardly shuffling alongside Junmyeon as the two of them brushed past various machines and games.

“Just because you’re over thirty does not mean that you’re too old to play. Last time I checked, games are for everyone, and there’s no age limit on having fun,” Junmyeon countered, giving Yifan a cheeky grin. “Besides, like I just said, it’ll be fun. When was the last time you kicked back and just tried to do something to enjoy yourself?”

When Yifan remained silent at that question, Junmyeon already knew he had made a valid point. It had been far too long since Yifan had done something like this. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering when the last time Yifan had experienced something fun had even been. Was Yifan capable of remembering it, or was it simply another memory lost amongst the others of times long gone?

Shaking those thoughts away was a bit of an easier task once the two of them finally found a game that caught their interest. They huddled around the cabinet, and Junmyeon caught the dry chuckle that passed through Yifan’s lips when he had stooped down to insert a coin into the slot.

“What’s so funny?” Junmyeon asked, arching an eyebrow as he straightened himself up. He shifted closer to the panel of controls, a little unsure of what he was doing. His interest had been piqued due to the artwork that had been plastered along the sides of the cabinet, but Junmyeon had very little experience in the gaming department. The most he had done was huddle with his friends around video game consoles in their rooms; he had never dealt with an arcade style game before. The little panel of buttons and small joysticks were oddly intimidating as he awkwardly let his fingers hover in place as the screen darkened to show it was loading. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Laughing at myself,” Yifan said simply, edging forward and leaning one elbow against the framework of the machine as he watched. “This game used to be really popular when I was your age. I’m old as dirt and I definitely feel like it.”

Junmyeon frowned as he cast his eyes onto the screen, giving the buttons a few experimental taps. “How many times do I have to tell you that you aren’t old?”

“Well, regardless of what you say, it doesn’t change the truth, now does it?” Yifan argued rhetorically.

Junmyeon just huffed, knowing the argument could go on forever. Yifan was horribly stubborn and he knew that for a fact, so if Yifan wasn’t going to listen, he may as well just let the conversation fade and not waste his breath. The game was starting now anyway, and Junmyeon’s tongue poked out from between his lips as he began to concentrate. His movements were clumsy and jerky and he just barely managed to avoid the first incoming attack.

Still, despite how he was starting to get into the game, Junmyeon had noticed something and he didn’t hesitate in calling Yifan out on it. “Stop squinting.”

“I wasn’t,” Yifan argued, blinking in surprise as he tore his eyes off the screen to instead stare at Junmyeon.

“You were. I saw you, and it may have been out of the corner of my eye, but I still saw it,” Junmyeon said calmly before letting out a loud squawk, jumping just in time to avoid a hole in the ground, his fingers pressing random buttons in panic. “It’s bad for your eyes to squint. Get your glasses.”

“I don’t always realize I’m doing it, okay? It’s a habit. Don’t nag me about it,” Yifan grumbled, but he obeyed regardless, digging around in his pockets before extracting the thin glasses case.

“What do you mean it’s a habit? You have glasses, there’s no reason you should be squinting,” Junmyeon asked, sinking his teeth into his lower lip as he kept his gaze locked onto the screen.

“Because when I was your age I didn’t like to wear them and usually didn’t,” Yifan replied dryly, pushing his glasses just a little higher up the slope of his nose.

“You’ve had glasses for that long? Why didn’t you wear them?” Junmyeon continued, peering over at Yifan in confusion. The cabinet beeped loudly and Junmyeon jolted then, letting out a string of garbled nonsense as he quickly spun back around to face the game properly. “Oh, _crap—“_

“You’ve been playing for two minutes and you’re about to die already,” Yifan pointed out, edging closer and bumping hips with Junmyeon in an attempt of making him scoot over. “Gimme some room. Let me help you.”

“I don’t need help,” Junmyeon whined, before yet again making a yelping noise as he just _barely_ managed to avoid dying. He then quickly shuffled sideways to give Yifan more room. “Okay, maybe I do. I’ve never played before, alright?”

“Just let me help you get out of this mess you got yourself into,” Yifan commented, taking over, scowling in focus. “Then you can play again. But if you keep this up you’re gonna die _so_ fast.”

“I didn’t think you even knew how to play,” Junmyeon said, standing on his tiptoes so that he could watch the screen from over Yifan’s arm. Yifan seemed a lot more pieced together than he was, complete with better timing and hand-eye coordination.

“What part of ‘this game was really popular when I was your age’ did you not catch? I used to play this a lot,” Yifan grunted back, eyes wide behind his glasses and not even blinking as he rhythmically tapped a few buttons. “But that was a long time ago. I guess I still got it.”

_“In your face!” Yifan shrieked gleefully, swiveling on his heel and jabbing a finger at Luhan. “I told you I could beat your high score!”_

_“Oh, quit bragging,” Luhan drawled, huffing in frustration as he crossed his arms. “You didn’t even beat it by that much.”_

_“But I still beat it,” Yifan said smugly, sticking his tongue out at the other for a split second. “You’re just jealous because I have mad skills.”_

_“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Luhan asked, letting out a snort of laughter. “Don’t try to talk ‘cool’ ever again. You’re only embarrassing yourself.”_

Yifan was, in fact, extremely talented when it came to video games. Junmyeon would have never expected it, but it was the truth that unfolded before his very eyes. Yifan easily blew him out of the water when they played competitively, and knocked Junmyeon’s scores off the charts without issue. Aside from a racing game and a _way_ too competitive round of air hockey, Junmyeon hadn’t managed to beat Yifan at anything. Still, winning that air hockey game had felt like a massive victory. It had been neck and neck and the both of them had gotten _way_ too into it, yelling at each other as they hunched over the table, sucked into their own world and seeming to forget that they were in a public place.

“I didn’t know you were the competitive type,” Junmyeon commented out of the blue. He and Yifan were standing near the back wall in front of another game. The entire game was assembled to resemble a sloped basketball court, complete with a little basket hanging on the back wall. Yifan was balancing one of the toy basketballs in his hand as he stooped over with a bit of difficult to cram some change into the slot to get it to start. “I’ve never seen you that passionate about anything besides art.”

“Nothing wrong with wanting to win,” Yifan said over the loud noise of a buzzer as the game booted to life. Yifan was taking it slow at last, not fighting to rack in as many points as he could this time, instead just hovering around and shooting baskets as if he was playing a real game of basketball. His hands looked too big around the inflated rubber, glasses perched atop of his head as he shot his baskets.

“You’re right, there’s nothing wrong with it, I just wasn’t expecting it,” Junmyeon said honestly, giving Yifan a little smile as he watched the older male. “It’s nice seeing that side of you. Not to sound rude, but you can be really stoic sometimes. Getting to see you so passionate about something is really nice.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m a stoic person,” Yifan replied calmly, eyes narrowed slightly in concentration. “Guarded, maybe, but not stoic. You can’t trust everyone, Junmyeon. Sometimes you just have to pick and choose whether you think it’s worth it or not to let someone see the real pieces of you that you don’t show to everyone else.”

“What about me?” Junmyeon asked then, and Yifan blinked in surprise, glancing over at him. Junmyeon’s expression was shy but hopeful then as he wrung his fingers together.

“You’re definitely worth it,” Yifan told him without hesitation, his facial features instantly softening a little as he offered Junmyeon a small but warm smile, nothing more than a brief tugging of lips that made Junmyeon’s heart melt into pure goo in his chest. “I’m sure you’ve already figured that out anyway.”

Junmyeon jolted in shock as Yifan suddenly tossed the toy basketball at him. Fumbling, Junmyeon just barely managed to catch it, holding it close to his chest with surprise scribbled across his face. Yifan’s mouth was curled up in amusement as he merely nodded in the direction of the hoop.

“Just try it,” Yifan told him. “You haven’t tried this game yet. I’m sure you can’t be that bad. I’m just good at it because I used to play basketball.”

“You’re putting way too much faith in me,” Junmyeon said, awkwardly turning to face the hoop. “You should know by now my hand-eye coordination is awful after seeing me play that one game when we first came in here.”

“Just try,” Yifan repeated, tucking his hands into his pockets as he watched.

Well, here went nothing. Junmyeon already knew he was awful at these types of games, but if Yifan wanted him to give it a go, he was going to do exactly that. Licking his lips, Junmyeon shifted his weight around for a moment, shifting from foot to foot. He cradled the small ball in his hands as he focused, hyperaware of Yifan’s gaze from beside him. And, inhaling sharply, he raised his hands a little, and took the shot.

And from beside him, Yifan suddenly let out a loud snort, before letting out a guffaw of disbelief.

Junmyeon had not been exaggerating which he had said that he had horrible hand-eye coordination. Even standing right there, so close, and focusing that hard, Junmyeon hadn’t even come close to making the basket. He missed, horribly so, and the ball went smacking against the backboard hung up behind the hoop. He had thrown it way too hard and instead of merely falling down, the ball came bouncing right back at him. Junmyeon had dodged it, flinching away with a yelp, and the ball hit the floor before rolling away. As Junmyeon scurried after it, Yifan suddenly erupted into laughter, eyes crinkling up in amusement.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Junmyeon whined, coming back quickly after with the ball cradled to his chest. He huffed, cheeks puffing up in irritation and embarrassment, though that did not last long, because Yifan was _still_ cracking up at his pathetic attempt of a shot. “Yifan, it wasn’t that funny.”

“It _was_ ,” Yifan wheezed at him, attracting a few perplexed looks from the people around them, because he couldn’t stop. Erupting into complete and utter gut-busting laughter, eyes crinkling up, Yifan doubled over then, balancing his hands on his kneecaps as he laughed uncontrollably. “You should’ve seen your _face_ —“

He wanted to feel embarrassed, to feel ashamed, to feel insulted, because that would have been _normal_ emotions when someone was laughing over his mistakes. But as he stood there, Junmyeon realized he didn’t have the capacity to be upset, not when Yifan was laughing like this. Time was suddenly standing still. The world had stopped turning. All noise had vanished from around him. Junmyeon was merely hovering in front of an arcade game with a toy ball in his hands, surrounded by an endless void of gray, and there was Yifan, standing in the center of it. It was silent, but Junmyeon could hear his laughter, watching how he dug his fingers into his own jeans as he bent himself in half. He straightened up for only a second, raising one finger as if trying to speak, but he was laughing so hard he couldn’t get it to come out. He resorted to merely wrapping his long arms about his stomach, curling into himself as he kept laughing, tears swelling in the corners of his crinkled eyes. And then, there was a sudden lump in his windpipe, and Junmyeon struggled to choke it back down his throat as he swallowed.

Junmyeon wasn’t sure if he had ever seen something so perfect in his entire life.

* * *

The drive back to campus had been quiet as always. The air had only grown colder as dusk arrived, momentarily bathing the sky calming colors of purples and reds as the sun dipped behind the horizon. Under the cover of night, the pair darted along the quiet streets. The wind had been brutal, icy and stabbing, and Junmyeon buried his hands in the folds of Yifan’s shirt as he threaded his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. He felt guilty in an odd way, sitting on the back of the motorcycle and pressed against Yifan’s back. He knew Yifan must have been freezing. Yifan didn’t handle the cold well, and even though he was armed with his beanie, Junmyeon knew the wind was no joke.

His suspicions were only confirmed when Yifan stopped the bike. They were parked in the lot across the street from Junmyeon’s dorm, shaded and hidden from trees and the darkness of night. It wasn’t the safest spot, but it hid the two of them well. Campus was empty at the early hours, as it was nearing one in the morning, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious.

“You’re shaking,” Junmyeon said quietly, scooting back a little when Yifan swiveled a bit on the bike to see him. Junmyeon was holding the helmet in his lap, hands clutching it to ensure it wouldn’t fall. They could just barely see each other, the lamppost on the corner giving them the haziest and softest amount of light. “Are you that cold?”

“I’m fine,” Yifan said, his voice a soft but gritty rumble that seemed to rise from the depths of his chest. Junmyeon wasn’t sure why it made him feel so odd, knowing that Yifan’s voice only became that way when he was tired. How had it become this way, knowing Yifan’s little tics? “I can handle it.”

“I hate that you have to drive home in this weather. It isn’t good for your health to be out in the cold like this, or to be out this late,” Junmyeon murmured. He drummed his fingers against the helmet, staring down at it. “I wish you could come inside… It’s warmer indoors.”

“And it’s also your dorm, where I’m not allowed, for various reasons,” Yifan commented with a sigh through his nose. “Regardless, I doubt it would work out very well. Your dinky dorm room bed wouldn’t be big enough for the two of us.”

“When did I say anything about you staying the night? I just wanted you to come inside to warm up,” Junmyeon asked, pushing his lips together as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Ah? So you _don’t_ want me to spend the night?” Yifan asked, leaning closer to him then. Junmyeon’s cheeks reddened almost immediately as he realized Yifan had his hands resting on his thighs, just above his knees, as if to give him more leverage as he leaned closer. “That’s a damn shame. Hurt my feelings a bit.”

“Don’t be so overdramatic,” Junmyeon complained softly, pink cheeks feeling so warm all of a sudden in the cold air. Yifan was just staring at him, corner of his mouth curled up like a cat, smug and knowing. “If you could, you know I’d let you. I wouldn’t mind it.”

“Wouldn’t mind what, exactly? Being crushed against me all night on a tiny mattress?” Yifan asked rhetorically, that smirk still plastered across his face. “Or do you just want me to spend the night at your place so you can get _this_ out of me?”

Yifan kissed him then. Junmyeon let out a soft grunt of surprise, eyes blinking twice as he tried to collect his thoughts, before he relaxed. It was always so easy to relax around Yifan, especially when the man was kissing him like this. Yifan kissed so well. His lips were so soft, warm, just like his hands, which were still resting on his thighs, fingernails embedding into the fabric of his jeans as he kissed Junmyeon just a little harder.

“I have a wish too you know,” Yifan said in between kisses, his breath warm as it ghosted over Junmyeon’s skin. “It’s that you didn’t have to live in this damn dorm. I could kiss you all the time if you were always at my place.”

There was a weird heat in his belly as he rested his hands on Yifan’s chest, pushing him away just enough so that he could look into his eyes. Junmyeon swallowed, licking his lips. “Really?”

“Really. There wouldn’t be any awkward tangos if you were always at my place. No roommates, no other people to worry about seeing us together,” Yifan whispered, hands squeezing tighter around Junmyeon’s thighs. “I could kiss you as much as I wanted, any time I want. Would you like that?”

Yifan didn’t give him a chance to respond. He bowed his head, claiming Junmyeon’s lips for himself all over again. It made him feel so horribly weird but left the oddest type of chills running down his spine when he felt Yifan nipping at his lower lip, as if _begging_ him to play along. Junmyeon was always so eager to please and he was then too, parting his lips slightly to grant Yifan entrance. Yifan tasted like a sharp mixture of lemons and limes from the soda he had earlier during their dinner, oddly addictive in its own warped way. Junmyeon could feel himself whining into the kiss, his arms shifting, hands sliding upwards and wrapping around the back of Yifan’s neck, as if trying to pull him in deeper.

It felt like no matter how many times they kissed nowadays, it just wasn’t enough, each one leaving Junmyeon’s body screaming for more.

“I want to see you again,” Yifan told him, his thumb swirling around the corner of Junmyeon’s puffy lips, wiping away the saliva that dribbled down his chin when Yifan broke their kiss. “Soon. I missed you so much. I hate only seeing you once a week.”

His mind was still hazy. Junmyeon was panting for breath. “I can’t. It’s too hard during the week, you know that. I’m sorry.”

“We can make it work,” Yifan told him. “We’ll figure it out.”

“You need to be patient. Classes will be over soon. I can see you all the time then,” Junmyeon said, hardly even thinking, just spitting out the first thing that came to his mind. It didn’t matter. It was the truth. He meant every word. “Your birthday is in two weeks, right? I can try to make it up to you then. We’ll make sure it’s a great day for you.”

“The sixth, yes. But really, you’re thinking too much. I only need one thing to make it a great day, and that’s you,” Yifan whispered, leaning forward all over again.

Junmyeon let out a snort as Yifan nipped his jaw, peppering his pale skin with kisses. “You’re such a big cheeseball. I mean it, I’ll make sure you have a good time. I already picked out your gift too.”

“Ah? You didn’t have to get me anything though,” Yifan said, genuine confusion in his eyes as he peeled back just enough to look Junmyeon in the face. He then grinned a little. “Honestly, if I had to ask for a present, it would be this.”

Sometimes Junmyeon wondered if Yifan used every excuse he could come up with to kiss him. Right then was no exception. Yifan was all over him, hands balanced on his thighs, connecting to his lips to Junmyeon’s all over again and kissing him senseless right then and there in the parking lot. Junmyeon was supposed to have walked over to the dorm fifteen minutes ago, but there they were, hidden in nearly complete darkness and making out like high schoolers on the back of Yifan’s motorcycle.

Oddly enough, Junmyeon didn’t mind. He could barely even breathe though, air sucked right out of him as Yifan kissed him over and over again. His fingers were knotted around Yifan’s neck to dug him down, tug him closer, short nails scratching at the short hairs that lined his nape. He couldn’t stop himself from nipping at Yifan’s lower lip when Yifan kissed him a little too hard, nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction, but it left Yifan gasping into his mouth as his fingers bore down on his thighs, squeezing them mercilessly.

Junmyeon didn’t know where it came from or why, but a _moan_ came crawling out of his throat, his back arching for a split second as he practically shoved himself at Yifan, attempting to deepen their kiss even more as if the way Yifan was curling his tongue behind his teeth wasn’t good enough.

And suddenly, Yifan pulled away from him.

“What?” Junmyeon asked, his chest heaving up and down, face splashed pink and lips swollen. Yifan leaned away, licking his lips as he turned his head, letting go of Junmyeon’s legs so quickly is was as if he had been burned. “Yifan?”

“I can’t. I can’t do this, not right now,” Yifan murmured, increasing the gap that was carved between them. “We need to stop. It’s going too far.”

“But I thought you liked it?” Junmyeon asked, red lips pursing. “I thought you liked to kiss me? Don’t you want to kiss me? Did I do something wrong?”

“That’s the problem, Junmyeon. I do like it. I love it. I love kissing you,” Yifan said without a drop of shame in his blood. “And I love touching you. But I might like it a little too much. And that’s why we need to just call it a night. I can’t keep kissing you and touching you and listen to you moan like that, I _can’t_. And I refuse to lose control of myself around you a second time.”

“You won’t,” Junmyeon argued weakly. He was shaking all over, trembling with adrenaline, his heart pumping a thousand beats per minute. Yifan had nearly eaten him alive, and even now, kisses and touches dissolved, Yifan’s very stare made him feel bare and hot. He could still feel Yifan’s hands gripping his thighs through his jeans. It felt _wrong_ , having Yifan pull away from him. “You aren’t like that.”

“I lost control of myself once and made you cry. It’s late. You need to think about this with a clearer and refreshed mind because I’m not going to force you into something you might regret,” Yifan told him, and Junmyeon could feel his heart squeezing in his chest with the weirdest mesh of emotions.

“You’re so _gorgeous_ and you’re perfect and I want you so fucking bad sometimes I can barely stand it. I don’t think you realize just how stunning you are sometimes, Junmyeon, how cute and how attractive you are and how sexy you can be without even trying,” Yifan continued, reaching out with one hand, his thumb tracing over Junmyeon’s lips, eyes calculating and tired. “But for you? I can wait. And until you think about this and decide what you really want, what will really make you happy, I’m going to wait.”

He was warm, warm from the fuzziness that came from him knowing that Yifan cared about him so much, warm from the reactions of his body, warm from adrenaline. He felt loved, knowing Yifan was putting him first. And yet, why did he feel…disappointed?

The small kiss on the lips that Yifan gave him right before they parted ways was not enough, and for the first time since they had begun dating, he felt _angry_ over Yifan giving him nothing more than a kiss goodbye. He wanted more. He needed _something_ , and his mind was a whirlwind as he crossed the street, face contorted in confusion as he glanced over his shoulder.

Yifan was putting his helmet on in the parking lot, starting his motorcycle once more. The headlight was bright, and Junmyeon just stood there for a moment, bombarded by a slew of emotions he did not fully understand.

And deep below his skin, unbeknownst to him, the monster that he had caged inside for so long was beginning to rattle its bars, demanding release.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 20 Mar 2017


	26. Combine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _[ COMBINE ]_
> 
> _the technique of affixing cast-off items to a traditional support, like a canvas_
> 
> A/N: Warning this chapter due to sexual content

He survived his first portfolio review with Yifan. Junmyeon wasn’t going to lie to himself; it _was_ difficult. It was more than just a race against the clock and straining to get the remainder of his paintings completed in time for his review. There were other stresses involved, including how he had been holed inside of Yifan’s office, struggling to explain the characteristics of his paintings. Yifan was in professor mode at the time, equipped with his typical stoic poker face as he listened to Junmyeon, taking notes on an old memo pad.

But in the end, his worries, his stress, his hard work, were all worth it. Junmyeon could not fight the way his lips spread in a wide grin as he held the paper outlining his results in his hands, beaming in complete and utter joy at the high numbers scratched onto his rubric in red ink. The lengthy list of criteria and pointers that Yifan had written down for him to work on in attempts of improving meant nothing to him right then, and for a moment, he felt like a child, giddy and full to bursting with joy that he had not experienced in years. He had officially made it to the top of the hill.

The bruises on his wrist from that one fateful day with Chanyeol faded. Junmyeon was so _glad_ to see them go, not wanting to be reminded of the painful history between the two of them. He knew Yifan was glad to see them fade as well, easily able to remember the sheer anger that had blossomed on Yifan’s face when Junmyeon had told him what had happened. And he definitely could not forget how livid Yifan had been when he had thought that he and Chanyeol had slept together.

_“I wonder if he has something wrong with him,” Junmyeon commented quietly, massaging the tender skin of his wrist. The mark was slowly lightening, but not fast enough for his or Yifan’s taste. “He kept trying to say that he liked me and wanted another chance and all else.”_

_“There’s nothing wrong with him aside from the fact he’s a disgusting piece of shit,” Yifan said bluntly. “There’s nothing mentally wrong with that kid. He knew what he was doing. I swear, he’d better hope I never see him. I’d give him far more than just a piece of my mind for what he tried to do to you.”_

One by one, the stresses of his life seemed to fade away into nothingness. He hadn’t seen Chanyeol again since that one encounter. His portfolio review went well. His grades were climbing steadily, both through his own efforts and via Yifan helping him study whenever he got too stuck.

There was just one problem left in his life at the moment, and that was Yifan.

Well, that wasn’t to say the issue was Yifan _specifically,_ but all of his remaining problems revolved around Yifan in one way or another. That one night was still ringing loud and clear in Junmyeon’s brain. He couldn’t shake it away no matter how hard he tried. He could still remember Yifan kissing him, his hands squeezing his thighs, his teasing words, the ghosting of his fingers against his skin, his _eyes_ , glazed over with a mixture of love and lust. He couldn’t forget how _wrong_ it felt for Yifan to let go of him, to end their chain of kisses to instead pull away and cutting it short. It all felt some horrible mistake, like unfinished business that had yet to have its closure.

But when Junmyeon mulled it over, he knew, deep down, there was only one form of closure for a situation like this one.

After all, what else was there? Junmyeon had spent _hours_ mulling the situation over in his head, fighting with himself mentally to nearly unhealthy extremes as he tried to figure out what to do. It was slowly dawning on him that kissing was no longer enough for him. It was a frightening realization; after all, never before had he wanted anything else, but his body and mind were beginning to say otherwise. Initially, he had simply told himself that he had gotten so frustrated because of the way Yifan had ended their session of kisses with no warning, but he realized now that it was more than that. The more he told himself he just wanted to kiss, the more his brain reminded him of the sensations that had struck him that one night as he sat on the back of Yifan’s motorcycle, making out with the professor as if he wasn’t going to get another opportunity. How right it felt to kiss Yifan, how right it felt to have Yifan gripping his legs so tightly and possessively, how right it felt to lace his fingers around his nape, and yet, how _wrong_ it felt for all of that to stop, and how _wrong_ it felt for Yifan to pull away from him.

There was no way he was having this wide array of feelings, wants, and frustrations over a _kiss._

He hadn’t told Yifan. He didn’t know how. He even felt guilty, on the cusp of ashamed, when he even thought about confessing to Yifan about what was going through his mind lately. It probably would have been beneficial to tell him. After all, this revolved around their relationship, and Yifan, older than him, would probably have some advice for him. But he just couldn’t say it. It was hard enough coming to terms with it on his own; admitting the desires budding within him to his boyfriend would be even more difficult.

But it was all there, and Junmyeon was beginning to realize it, at long last. That one night was on his mind far too often, and he mulled it over day by day. Lecture, for Junmyeon at least, was becoming awkward. It was growing harder and harder to focus in his classes, his brain filled up with nothing but Yifan. And his lectures with Yifan were possibly the most difficult of all. They were still holding onto their illusion of nothing more than professor and student; they kept their distance from each other during class for obvious reasons. But it did not stop Junmyeon from looking a bit more than usual, finding his mouth dry whenever Yifan entered class in one of his new outfits that clung to his body so well and made him look a whole new man. It didn’t stop the way they occasionally locked eyes whenever Yifan was perched on his stool at the front of the room to talk, and it didn’t stop Junmyeon from swallowing so thickly as he immediately felt bare to the bone underneath Yifan’s gaze.

He was so wrapped up in his own mind that everything else was fading from focus. He couldn’t concentrate on work. He no longer heard the words his professors said in lecture. He missed the lingering glances Yixing continuously shot him during Yifan’s lecture.

It was at that point that he finally admitted to himself that he wanted – _needed_ – something more. It scared him a little, knowing that his body was craving more than just a simple kiss, that he was beginning to desire to go the extra step with Yifan, with someone for the first time, but the embarrassment was fading. He did not have the capacity to feel ashamed when he was practically suffocating in desire.

And Yifan was not helping.

 _Yifan (7:37 PM)_  
Sorry it took me so long to reply.  
I promise I wasn’t ignoring you.

 _Junmyeon (7:39 PM)_  
It’s fine.  
I’m working on my homework right now anyway.  
What were you doing?

 _Yifan (7:40 PM)_  
I finally got dinner started, I’m working on that now.  
But before that, I had to shower.  
That’s what took me so long, I guess.

_Junmyeon (7:40 PM)  
Oh._

_Yifan (7:41 PM)_  
Oh?  
That’s all you have to say is oh?  
You don’t have anything else to add?

 _Junmyeon (7:41 PM)_  
Not really…?  
Why, am I supposed to add an additional commentary?

 _Yifan (7:42 PM)_  
You could’ve at least been polite and  
asked me how my shower was or something.  
So rude.  
But you know, if you had stayed over,  
we wouldn’t even be having this conversation right now.

_Junmyeon (7:42 PM)  
We wouldn’t?_

_Yifan (7:43 PM)_  
Well, yeah.  
You wouldn’t have to ask how my shower  
went because I’d drag you in with me. ;-)

Now _that_ was not fair at all. It was like the universe lately was just trying to torture him. After all, Yifan had been exploring his new wardrobe lately. He was stuck staring at Yifan adorned in an assortment of better fitting and more stylish clothes during class, and now here he was, having Yifan hit on him like crazy outside of class. Luck was definitely not on his side.

Sprawled out on his stomach with his laptop cast in front of him, Junmyeon propped himself up onto his elbows so that he could work on texting Yifan back.

_Junmyeon (7:45 PM)  
I can’t believe you just said that ;;_

_Yifan (7:45 PM)_  
Ah?  Why not?  
You ARE my boyfriend after all.  
I wouldn’t mind sharing.  
You sound embarrassed.

_Junmyeon (7:46 PM)  
That’s because I AM embarrassed :-(_

_Yifan (7:46 PM)_  
Why would you be embarrassed?  
You’re super cute. If you got it, flaunt it.  
Besides, you would only be flaunting it  
in front of me anyway. No need to be shy. ;-)

_Junmyeon (7:47 PM)  
Yifan, seriously…  >n<_

_Yifan (7:48 PM)_  
Alright, alright.  
Jeez, Junmyeon, I’m just teasing you.  
No need to get so worked up.  
Besides, even if we DID get to that point, it’s not like  
you would need to feel uncomfortable in front of me.  
I’m not going to judge you, no matter what  
you look like underneath all those cute clothes.  
I’m sure you’re beautiful, anyway.

_Junmyeon (7:50 PM)  
Don’t say things like that!!_

_Yifan (7:51 PM)_  
Why not? It’s the truth.  
You’re already so stunning, Junmyeon.  
I’m sure without any clothes on you’re even more gorgeous.  
I guess it’s a good thing you aren’t here.  
I doubt I’d be able to control myself around  
you if we had shared that shower.

Sure, Junmyeon’s experience was extremely limited, but he wasn’t ignorant, or exactly _innocent._ And that was plenty obvious from the way his thoughts instantly crashed into the gutter. It was startling, just how much he was changing. When Yifan used to flirt with him like this, Junmyeon’s face grew pink with a mixture of shyness and embarrassment. Now, however, when Yifan said those types of things, Junmyeon couldn’t fight the way his imagination started racing. And right now, well, it wasn’t exactly the best time. All he could think about was Yifan, those large hands squeezing around his limbs as Yifan shoved him against the wall, kissing him like there was no tomorrow—

His hips jerked against the bed.

 _Yifan (7:54 PM)_  
I know I’m probably embarrassing you,  
and I’m sorry for that, but Junmyeon,  
I don’t think you really understand all this.  
You aren’t confident in yourself enough.  
When I say that you’re gorgeous, I mean it.  
I just wish you could see what I see, Junmyeon,  
and realize that you’re beautiful.

There was an odd heat spreading out over the inside surface of his ribcage. The praise felt _good_ , good in a way Junmyeon wasn’t sure he had ever experienced before. It felt so wonderful to be complimented like this, and yet, it was as if with every word, Yifan was only pushing him deeper and deeper into insanity. Not quite aware that he was doing it, too distracted by the scenarios playing in his head – _Yifan holding him against the wall, breathing compliments and praise into his ear –_ Junmyeon’s hips were moving. What were previously unconscious jerking movements had dissolved into the slow, repetitive rolling motions as Junmyeon rubbed himself against his mattress.

His dorm room was blessedly empty. Grinding against the bed, Junmyeon’s breathing was getting heavier, fingers twitching pathetically around his phone as he tried to focus on Yifan’s texts. But he just couldn’t concentrate, panting as he raised his hips just enough to shove his free hand beneath his torso. His sleeping shorts had already been snug on him, but they were uncomfortably tight now, a hardened bulge protruding against the front of the fabric. He could trace the swell with his fingertips through the fabric, whining with a mixture of need and discomfort.

His phone vibrated.

 _Yifan (8:00 PM)_  
Are you there?  
You got so quiet all of a sudden.  
Did I make you uncomfortable?

He couldn’t take it anymore. He released his grip on his phone, letting it drop onto the bed. Balancing his weight onto his left forearm, he began tugging at the waistband of his shorts and his underwear to free himself. He knew he must have looked risqué, knees pressed into the bedding as he fisted his right hand tightly about himself. He bowed his head in a pathetic attempt of muffling himself, forehead resting against the sheets as he moaned.

It wasn’t his first time touching himself, but it was his first time getting so close this fast. His throat was already starting to close up, his stomach boiling hot as he edged closer and closer to the top of the hill. His torso was quivering as he tried to stay propped up, right hand a near blur over his cock. The position was awkward and uncomfortable, but Junmyeon didn’t care, too preoccupied at the moment. The sheets whistled softly underneath him, and Junmyeon’s mouth hung open as a string of garbled noises passed through his lips. He could feel the ghosting sensation of Yifan’s lips against his own, fingers squeezing his thighs, whispering soft praises into his ear, telling him just how good he really was—

Every muscle within his body tightened then in unison, and Junmyeon choked on his own heavy breaths as he came. His knees slipped against the bedding, struggling to hold him up as he convulsed. His hips jerked weakly, fingertips trembling as he shakily ran his hand along his shaft to keep milking himself throughout his orgasm. And by the time he came back down, he was exhausted, sweating, trembling, and panting as he dared himself to look down.

Fingers slick with his own fluids, sweat dripping down his skin, and bedsheets stained with globs of white, Junmyeon released a heavy breath and closed his eyes, just trying to get some air back into his lungs. He eased himself backwards so that he could sit on his haunches, breathing heavily as he wiped his hand off on his already soiled bedding. He sat like that for a while, trying to come down entirely, his muscles quivering with exertion and his heart hammering away in his chest. It felt like an eternity before he recollected himself. With an immense amount of effort, Junmyeon eased himself off the bed and onto the floor, standing on his own two legs. He moved his laptop and his phone to his desk and quickly stripped off his sheets, knowing perfectly well he would need to do laundry in a few minutes. He couldn’t sleep on dirty sheets.

After he managed to piece his brain back together, as it was still fuzzy and light from orgasm, Junmyeon realized he was racing against the clock. He didn’t know when Sehun was coming back, and the last thing he wanted was for his roommate to stumble in at an awkward time. His shower was rushed and Junmyeon practically tripped over himself when he came back to his room, quickly scurrying downstairs to get started on his laundry. Luck seemed to be on his side for once, because when he returned, Sehun wasn’t back yet. He aired out their room the best he could with a spray and switching on his desk fan for a bit, and, with Sehun not having returned just yet, Junmyeon sank down into his desk chair with a tired sigh.

He sat there for a second, and as he glanced at his phone, he realized that he had not replied to Yifan’s texts.

Swallowing, Junmyeon grabbed his phone and unlocked it, greeted by his and Yifan’s list of texts. Yifan had not sent him any other ones, leaving him to stare at the messages he had not replied previously.

 _Yifan (8:00 PM)_  
Are you there?  
You got so quiet all of a sudden.  
Did I make you uncomfortable?

 _Junmyeon (8:47 PM)_  
I’m here.  
You didn’t make me uncomfortable.  
I’m sorry, I was busy.

 _Yifan (8:52 PM)_  
Oh, thank god.  
I thought I pushed you too hard and made you uneasy.  
Welcome back. What were you working on?

He couldn’t fight the sense of shame that swelled in his stomach when Yifan asked him that innocent question. It was fully dawning on him now, the weight of what he had just done. He had gotten so turned on from Yifan’s text messages, of all things, that he had just guilty hunched down on his bed and jerked off quick and rough into his own fist. That was already tough to swallow on its own, but knowing that he had done such a thing because of Yifan teasing him, that the entire time he had been masturbating, he had been thinking about Yifan, well, that made him feel even more humiliated.

There was no way in hell he was going to tell Yifan what he had done.

_Junmyeon (8:55 PM)  
It’s nothing._

* * *

For the first time in ages, Junmyeon did not hang out with Yifan over the weekend. He wanted to, but Yifan gently rejected the offer, saying he had an exhibition coming up early next month, and that his paintings still weren’t finished. With it being the first of November on Monday, Junmyeon knew that Yifan needed all the time he could to finish his work.

It was odd, not having Yifan around on a Saturday night, but it did give Junmyeon some time to see his friends again. And sure, it was fun, but maybe deciding to hang out with them wasn’t such a good idea.

The first warning sign was when Yixing turned to face him, but Junmyeon, not aware of the trap being placed for him, had fallen right into it. They were sitting in Zitao’s and Jongin’s shared room that night, those two seated on the floor alongside Sehun, Yixing, and Junmyeon. They had watched a movie together as they huddled around their takeout containers, and while they were watching Sehun and Zitao go at it in a video game – after beating everyone else – Yixing turned to him.

“Can I ask you something?” Yixing asked him. It sounded innocent enough. Junmyeon, not fully paying attention, as his eyes were locked onto the television to watch the ongoing match, merely hummed in response, continuing to sip his drink. “What’s the deal with you and Kris?”

Junmyeon instantly choked on his soda, setting his cup down as he dissolved into a mess of spluttering coughs. Zitao paused the game, both he and Sehun twisting around as Jongin peered down at them from his bed. Sehun was the first to reach over to pat Junmyeon roughly on the back, trying to help him breathe a little easier.

“Jeez, Yixing, were you trying to kill him?” Jongin then piped up, frowning as Junmyeon, teary-eyed, at last managed to quit coughing.

“I was just asking!” Yixing said quickly.

“What brought this on?” Junmyeon wheezed, massaging his ribcage through his shirt. He could finally breathe again, but his chest still hurt.

“I’ve been doing some thinking lately. That’s all. I didn’t really know when else to ask you,” Yixing replied, pursing his lips. “You’ve been staring at him like crazy during lecture. What’s the deal?”

“Deal?” Junmyeon echoed, blinking. He could feel himself slowly beginning to be backed into a corner, and he had no idea of how he was going to escape. “There’s no ‘deal’, Yixing.”

Yixing furrowed his eyebrows unhappily. “Junmyeon, there is _something_ going on here. I’m not blind. You stare at him like crazy during every lecture.”

Pulse quickening, Junmyeon did not know how to respond. He was panicking on the inside at the sudden interrogation, and the fact that _everyone_ was now staring at him was not helping. He was an awful liar, and he knew that. If he tried to make something up, his face was going to turn red, and he already knew he was going to start stuttering. He was trapped.

He opened his mouth, pathetically about to try to defend himself, when Sehun suddenly spoke up from beside him. “Yixing, why are you so obsessed with whatever Junmyeon feels for Kris?”

Junmyeon’s mouth clicked shut. Yixing had paused at that question, taken aback, surprise scribbled on his face as he tilted his head to one side. “What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly as I said. I just find it weird you keep asking Junmyeon if he’s interested in Kris or if there’s something going on between the two of them. You just asked _me_ about it the other day,” Sehun said bluntly. “Besides, why are you keeping tabs on what Junmyeon is doing so much? You must be watching him pretty closely to be picking up on all his mannerisms like this. Is there something you need to tell us?”

Yixing’s cheeks burned bright red in a mixture of embarrassment and shame. “Like _what?”_

“I’m just asking. You’re allowed to ask things, and so am I. I just find it funny that you keep watching Junmyeon so closely like this and then try to interrogate him,” Sehun continued. “It almost sounds like you have a crush on him or something.”

“I do _not_ ,” Yixing hissed.

Zitao suddenly laughed. “Yixing, seriously, if you have a thing for Junmyeon, you may as well just be blunt and say it to his face. It’s not like we’re gonna judge you for liking guys or something.”

“I don’t have a crush on Junmyeon!” Yixing practically screeched, his voice drowned out by the laughter of Zitao and Jongin. The two boys were cracking up now, ignoring Yixing’s words. “Guys, I’m serious!”

“Hi serious, I’m Jongin,” the younger student commented, clearly just trying to get on Yixing’s nerves at this point. Zitao, on the other hand, seemed that to be the funniest comment in the world, busting out in a loud guffaw before breaking down into hysterical cackles.

As the others remained distracted, Sehun stole a quick glance at Junmyeon, giving him a small wink then as if to say _your secret is safe with me._ And with a heart still pounding away with adrenaline, Junmyeon grinned back, unable to ignore the fact that he was extremely lucky to have Sehun on his side.

* * *

November was a time of change for Junmyeon. It had only been a handful of days so far, but the differences were copping up one by one. With the end of the semester rapidly approaching, Junmyeon could proudly say he seemed to have last gotten the complete grasp of his classes and assignments. His grades were doing well. Aside from trying to wiggle away from Yixing’s increasing prodding and interrogations about what was going on between him and Yifan, there wasn’t any other drama in his life. Well, none aside from his private dilemma of realizing he liked Yifan a lot more than he originally thought. Despite how it was approaching nearly two weeks since Junmyeon guiltily curled up in his dorm room and performed an act that was a little less than pure, Junmyeon still hadn’t told Yifan. He hadn’t breathed a word about his newly discovered feelings or the wants that he suspected were lingering inside of him. He still had not figured out how to bring it up in conversation, to tell Yifan what was on his mind, so he merely let the issue lie dormant for now until he thought of something.

But, speaking of Yifan, things were going well between them. Yifan had been a very busy man lately, caught between lectures and chipping away at his projects for his incoming exhibition. Their contact had been limited to text messages and secret chaste kisses behind closed office doors and the occasional phone call that left Junmyeon shyly giggling into his receiver.

After continuously dealing with hectic schedules and a seemingly endless workload, it was nice to escape from reality for a while. Yifan’s birthday was the perfect reason for a miniature getaway, even if it was just for a day. It felt like it had been forever since they had seen each other outside of class, and Junmyeon could not stop the excited yet anxious bubbling in his stomach as the days dwindled downward.

Still, despite his nerves, Junmyeon really was eager for the big day. It wasn’t even his birthday, but he was enthusiastic anyway. Birthdays were always something that made him happy; after all, what was more special than a whole day dedicated just to you? Junmyeon always tried to ensure that his loved ones were happy on their birthdays. He had, even when he was younger, been the one to eagerly throw surprise parties for his friends and spend ages hunting for the perfect gift.

He wanted Yifan to feel that happiness too.

He had to admit, he was off to a pretty good start. As usual, he took the bus from campus and hopped off at the stop near Yifan’s apartment complex that Saturday afternoon. The walk over to Yifan’s building had been brutal. It was cold and windy and Junmyeon desperately clutched the parcel in his hands close to his chest, as if to protect it at all costs. As he climbed the stairs, he couldn’t help but think back to the latest weather forecast he had read on his phone. He knew Yifan was going to be upset. It was supposed to frost heavily overnight, and the meteorologist was calling for snowfall on Monday. Yifan hated any and all forms of cold, so Junmyeon was certain that Yifan was not going to be a fan of the approaching weather. Still, Junmyeon doubted that Yifan would be upset if classes were canceled due to the snowfall. And if he was being honest with himself, he wouldn’t mind either.

But the potential icy weather was the last thought on his mind when he knocked on the door. He could hear the familiar rustling behind the closed structure, and when it opened, Yifan was immediately arching his eyebrows in puzzlement.

_“What’s with the giant bag?” Yifan asked, shuffling aside to grant Junmyeon entrance into his home. when Junmyeon stepped in, Yifan quickly shut the door behind him to block out the cold._

_Junmyeon grinned widely. Pattering excitedly into the other room so that he could set the bundle down on Yifan’s table, he worked at the bag for a moment before all that was left on the wooden surface was a square box, flaps firmly closed, a pack of candles, and the gift he had picked out for Yifan, wrapped in bright and colorful paper._

_“You can’t have any now, but,” Junmyeon started, picking at the flaps of the box to open the top. He flashed Yifan a prideful smile when the professor peered inside, “this is your birthday cake.”_

_Yifan stood there for a moment, blinking a couple times to show that his brain was trying to process what was happening. At long last, his face softened, eyes seeming a bit brighter almost immediately._

_“It’s beautiful,” Yifan complimented, corners of his mouth curled up in a smile. “You actually bought this for me?”_

_“Of course! It’s your birthday after all,” Junmyeon replied, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. He closed the box and, smiling, glanced at his boyfriend. “I thought about getting you donuts instead, but I thought I’d just play it safe and stick to tradition.”_

_“Regardless… Thank you. Really,” Yifan continued, eyes falling onto the present still sitting on the table. Junmyeon quickly reached out to swipe it away before Yifan had a chance to grab it. Yifan just sighed, still grinning to himself as he turned to Junmyeon, not commenting on the way Junmyeon was protectively clutching the gift to his chest. “I don’t even know what to say. I don’t remember the last time anyone has ever bought me a cake.”_

Those words stuck with him, and in a rather uneasy way. The cake and gift were left at Yifan’s apartment as the duo, as usual, headed down the stairs to achieve their escape on the back of Yifan’s motorcycle. As they drove through the city streets, Junmyeon’s arms wrapped tightly about Yifan’s belly as always, head pressed against his back, he couldn’t shake the man from his mind. It was as if his brain was stuck in time; all he could think about was the surprise and gentle happiness on Yifan’s face as Junmyeon showed him what he had brought. He could still hear Yifan mentioning that he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had bought him a cake. And it made Junmyeon feel so uncomfortably _weird._

It was another confirmation that there was still so much that he didn’t know about Yifan just yet.

He had only seen glimpses into Yifan’s history, nothing more than little snippets of his life that Yifan had decided to share with him when prompted. There was still so much shrouded in mystery, and to know that his ignorance ran so _deeply_ when it came to his boyfriend’s background, well, it bothered him immensely.

It was bugging him so much he couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.

The two of them wandered into the city on that cold Saturday, huddled a little too close together as they traveled down the sidewalks and ducked into various buildings. Yifan had complained that he was cold, so Junmyeon, after practically shoving his card into the cashier’s face before Yifan could reach for his wallet, treated him to a cup of coffee. He had to admit, the way Yifan puckered his lips in a little pout as he clutched the cup in his hands, softly complaining that Junmyeon didn’t have to buy it for him, was rather cute. They traveled to another museum together. It was much more relaxed and slow-paced than the last time they had visited one; they talked quietly, hands bumping gently together as they formed a semi-circle around the paintings and art to admire them.

Dinner, however, was the highlight of the day. By the time they had visited the museum and had done some window shopping – while cracking jokes about some of the horrendous merchandise – they both were famished. With it being Yifan’s birthday, Junmyeon asked him where he wanted to eat. It took some prying, a bit of arguing, since Yifan initially kept brushing him off saying they could go wherever, anywhere was fine, but at long last, he finally made a proper decision.

Junmyeon had never tried hot pot before, but it was quite excellent, and he was rather impressed.

“It’s good, right?” Yifan asked him. He hadn’t seen Yifan smile very often, but he was right then, corners of his mouth curled up happily as he crammed another portion of food into his mouth. He could have sworn that Yifan’s tail would have been wagging by now, if he had one. “I haven’t had hot pot in _so_ long. I’d go by myself but it’s usually way too much food for just me.”

“Why don’t you take Luhan with you?” Junmyeon asked curiously.

Yifan just wrinkled his nose. “I’d rather not.”

Well, there went that idea. Junmyeon just nodded, not pushing the matter any further. The last thing he wanted to do was get Yifan all riled up on his big day.

“Well, I’m glad we decided to go somewhere that you enjoy so much for your birthday,” Junmyeon said instead, offering him a soft smile. “Today is going well for you, then?”

“It’s going great,” Yifan replied honestly, eyes shining happily as he turned his attention back onto the pot of stock. “Seriously, this is the best birthday I’ve had in years.”

The bait was there, and Junmyeon took it, no longer able to hold back his curiosities. “What do you normally do for your birthday, then?”

Yifan frowned a bit, seeming unsure of how to reply initially. “Not much. It’s the same as every other day, I guess. If it’s a weekday, just go to work, get something to eat after lectures, and just come home. I’ve never really done much on the weekends either. Same thing, I guess, just treat myself and get something I really want to eat and call it a day.”

“By yourself?” Junmyeon asked, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah, by myself. You make it sound like I actually have friends,” Yifan replied with a snort. “And don’t even bring up Luhan. He’s forgotten my birthday the past two years, so I’m sure he’s gonna forget again this year too. Wouldn’t surprise me any.”

Junmyeon swallowed. “What about your family? They don’t come to see you?”

“I’m an only child, and I’ve been no contact with my parents since I graduated college, so… No,” Yifan replied coolly. “Just me.”

His stomach twisted. “You don’t talk to your parents at all?”

“They don’t talk to me, Junmyeon. Don’t get the wrong idea. It’s stupid, really. I decided to follow my own path and they threw me away. It reminds me a bit of your father, in a way, with how they wanted me to follow them blindly. They wanted me to be things I’m not. Lawyer, doctor, something like that, and when I majored in business, that was also something they accepted,” Yifan continued with a sigh. “I didn’t like it. I was good at it, but I didn’t like it. I couldn’t see myself as a businessman, and especially for the rest of my life. I’ve always loved art, and that was what I wanted to do. But that wasn’t good enough for them. It’s something else, knowing your parents stopped caring about you just because of what you decided to major in and do for a career. My parents have always hated the arts, so it’s not that surprising to me that they acted the way they did when I told them I was majoring in art. But yeah. We don’t talk. My parents don’t know I have a master’s degree, they don’t know I teach, hell, they don’t even know I was in a motorcycle accident. So, no, they definitely don’t come to see me.”

It was _sad_. The more Junmyeon thought about it, the more he realized Yifan really didn’t have _anyone_ in his life. His parents had tossed him away and the only friend he had wasn’t genuine.

“It’s fine, Junmyeon,” Yifan said, as if able to read his mind. He shrugged his shoulders. “It is what it is. Don’t be upset.”

Yifan acted like it was fine, that it didn’t bother him, and Junmyeon wondered if it really didn’t, or if it was just a front. He didn’t know, but if Yifan said it was okay, then he couldn’t exactly argue with him.

He could still feel bad for him though, even when Yifan just flashed him a comforting little grin as he turned his attention back onto his food.

* * *

“You don’t understand! A lot of these 2010 models were limited production! The CVO Street Glide is so _rare_ ,” Yifan babbled, talking nearly a mile a minute as he waved the book in Junmyeon’s face. “It has a 1803 cc V-Twin engine which is the _largest_ displacement V-Twin engine—“

He had no idea what Yifan was even talking about, as Junmyeon knew nothing about engineering, motorcycles, or mechanics. They had gotten home an hour ago. Junmyeon had lugged out the cake, decorated it with some of the colorful candles he had bought, and, single-handedly sang Yifan happy birthday himself. The two of them munched on their cake as Yifan unwrapped his gift, and Junmyeon could not have been happier at that moment, watching the excitement and pure _joy_ break out on Yifan’s face upon seeing the motorcycle book Junmyeon had bought for him.

Nailed it.

Yifan had been glued to the book since he had opened it. They were huddled together on the couch, the TV on in the background, but Yifan wasn’t paying it any mind, nose shoved into the pages of his new book. Junmyeon couldn’t help but find it cute. It was as if Yifan was younger than he actually was as he read, eyes bright and attentive as he slowly took in the information on the pages. There seemed to be so few things that Yifan _really_ loved, but motorcycles were definitely one of those things.

He interrupted Yifan’s ramblings with a laugh.

“What?” Yifan asked then, looking up from his book. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at the situation, that’s all.” Junmyeon just shrugged, smiling a little. “You’re just being cute right now.”

Yifan frowned. “I’m not cute.”

“You’re being very cute. I’ve never heard you talk this much, and you sound so excited. It’s nice,” Junmyeon continued, a grin on his lips.

“You kinda set me up. You’re the one that got me this book,” Yifan argued, waving the motorcycle book in Junmyeon’s direction. “This _amazing_ book.”

“It can join your magazines,” Junmyeon joked, motioning to the stacks of motorcycle magazines Yifan kept upon his coffee table. “It’ll blend right in.”

“Not sure if you’re joking about my collection or trying to hint that I’m a hoarder in the making,” Yifan argued, pursing his lips.

Junmyeon let out a snort of amusement. “You said it, not me.”

“I’m not a hoarder in the making.” Yifan frowned a little deeper. “Even if I am, you have no room to talk. I already know your room is a train wreck.”

“Clutter isn’t the same as hoarding,” Junmyeon argued.

“Yeah, well, you can’t even comment on my collection when you’re contributing to it,” Yifan said stubbornly, setting the book aside before leaning closer to Junmyeon. His lips twitched into a smirk. “Which, by the way, I never gave you proper thanks, now did I?”

Oh, man. There it was again, Yifan using any excuse in the book he could find to kiss him. Junmyeon normally didn’t mind, but with how complicated his feelings were becoming lately, he didn’t know if this was a good idea. But as usual for Junmyeon, he didn’t object, compliant as always as Yifan kissed him.

Focus. He had kissed Yifan dozens of times! No worries, right? Nope, none.

But no matter what he tried to tell himself, he just couldn’t get rid of the tension that was forming in his muscles, the slow build of adrenaline in his veins. It was just kisses, something he should have been used to, but his brain was on overdrive. There were so many unsaid feelings and Junmyeon was slowly suffocating. Yifan kissing brought them all back in a heartbeat. The affection, the love, the want, the desire, the attraction, it was all pouring over his head like a bucket of ice cold water. He was suddenly bombarded by the memory of what he had done alone in his room that one night, and his skin ached with the rise of goose bumps. The way Yifan always kissed him so lovingly yet so passionately and possessively was not helping matters at all, and Junmyeon whined into Yifan’s mouth, arching his back as his imagination ran out of control. He wondered if Yifan would kiss him like this all the time, swallowing his moans as he pressed inside of him—

And all of a sudden Yifan pulled away from him, cutting their kisses short just like last time. Junmyeon was ready to scream in frustration, wanting _more_ , and knowing it perfectly well. But before he could tell Yifan to continue, that he shouldn’t have stopped, he noticed Yifan wasn’t looking at him.

Instead, Yifan had his eyes downcast, and was staring at the noticeable bulge pressing against the front of Junmyeon’s jeans.

Junmyeon instantly wished a bolt of lightning could strike him dead right then and there.

“I just—“ Junmyeon started, because Yifan wasn’t saying _anything_ , eerily silent as he kept staring at the front of Junmyeon’s jeans, as if in disbelief. “Yifan, wait—I just—Let me explain—“

Yifan, with a rather dazed voice, interrupted him. “This is insane.”

“W-What is?” Junmyeon asked then instead, swallowing thickly because Yifan would not stop staring at him. It was embarrassing, but not enough to make his erection go away.

“ _This._ Look, I just… I didn’t think you were attracted to me at all. I didn’t think you ever _would_ be,” Yifan rambled, his lips starting to spread in a rather joyful grin. “I just can’t believe it’s actually happening.”

“You aren’t…ya know, freaked out?” Junmyeon practically squeaked.

“Why would I be freaked out? If anything, I’m flattered,” Yifan commented, and the entire situation just felt so _weird_ , because here they were, having a conversation while Junmyeon’s dick was hard and showing through his pants. “You obviously weren’t attracted to your exes but you’re attracted to _me_ and that’s crazy.”

Junmyeon swallowed, awkwardly adjusting himself. His jeans felt too tight. He broke the silence softly. “Then where does this leave us?”

“Depends on whether or not you want to take care of your little problem,” Yifan replied, still grinning in amusement. “What else?”

Junmyeon’s cheeks burned red. “You mean…?”

“I mean sex, if that’s what you want. _Only_ if that’s what you want, because I’m not forcing you into something you aren’t ready for,” Yifan said carefully. “It’s up to you.”

Junmyeon sat there for a long moment, trying to make a decision. Yifan watched his face carefully, no judgment evident at all, patiently waiting for him to speak. It was a little hard to think, honestly, with his dick straining in his pants like this and Yifan staring at him. He was scared, sure. He had never even wanted to tell Yifan what the problem was, but now that the air was cleared… Was he ready? The thought of having sex did make him nervous, but this was Yifan. This was the man who loved him so deeply, would do anything for him, this was the man who was worth it.

This was the man he loved.

Junmyeon audibly swallowed, eyes downcast and cheeks red as he spoke in a tiny, shy voice. “I’m… I’m willing to try.”

* * *

He had been in Yifan’s bedroom several times before, but this was the first time he was going to be doing something like _this_. Yifan had taken him by the hand and led him into the room, closing the door behind him out of habit. And immediately after, Yifan was all over him, showering him in kisses as he gripped Junmyeon’s waist tightly and possessively.

And now, here he was, his heart beating a mile a minute as he slowly worked on taking his clothes off. Yifan stood behind him, still fully dressed, and not making a single sound. Junmyeon’s hands were shaking and the nervousness had made him go soft what felt like ages ago, but he knew he would be okay. This was Yifan. This was the man he trusted, and the man Junmyeon had come to realize he would not mind giving himself up for.

He could do this.

Yifan stood there quietly, watching Junmyeon undress. Junmyeon had a magnificent body, especially for a college student. Slender, firm abs, a small waist. He took care of his health and his figure, that was for certain. And as he watched Junmyeon’s jeans slip down his legs, followed by his underwear, Yifan was left with the view of his ass.

He groaned, low in his throat, and, before he could stop himself, he reached out and grabbed one cheek in a firm grip.

Junmyeon shrieked, startled, jolting as he dropped his clothes onto the floor. He quickly spun around to face Yifan, cheeks red in embarrassment. “Yifan!”

“What? I couldn’t help myself,” Yifan commented coolly, squeezing roughly in a way that made Junmyeon whine. “I never knew you had such a nice ass.”

Junmyeon swallowed, trying not to acknowledge how his dick was swelling a little. “I-It’s not that great.”

“Are you kidding? Look at this,” Yifan said, caressing his rear for a moment before suddenly smacking him right on the butt. Junmyeon jumped, whining a bit louder. “It even jiggles. A nice, big ass. Perfect.”

“Why are you like this?” Junmyeon complained quietly, unable to think of any other comeback, hoping like mad Yifan wouldn’t comment on how his cock was officially hard.

“What can I say? I’m an ass man,” Yifan said casually. His laidback attitude did help calm Junmyeon’s nerves a bit. Yifan hummed, reaching down so that he could tug his shirt over his head, chucking it onto the floor before starting on his pants. “Get up on the bed.”

Junmyeon obeyed, shyly clambering up and onto Yifan’s mattress. Yifan hopped onto the bed as well, instantly attaching himself to Junmyeon, still clad in his underwear as he began to kiss him. It was a bit awkward in Junmyeon’s eyes, sitting there making out with Yifan as he was stark naked.

“Don’t we need to, um,” Junmyeon rambled as Yifan paused in kissing him for a moment, “p-prepare some stuff?”

“Oh?” Yifan asked rhetorically, his voice teasing. “Like what?”

“Like. The… The liquid stuff,” Junmyeon stammered, too shy to say the word _lube._ And Yifan found it downright adorable. “And the… The, um, protection and… You know…so you can put, uh, it…in…?”

“You’re so fucking cute, you know that? So shy,” Yifan murmured, eyes amused and lips curled up as he leaned in again, cupping Junmyeon’s jaw in one large hand as he kissed him softly, gently. “Do you _want_ me to ‘prepare some stuff’? Because I can definitely tease you a lot more, if that’s what you want.”

“No, I—Uh, wait, what do you mean?” Junmyeon asked, confused, cheeks red.

Yifan let out a snort of laughter then, just shaking his head. “Nothing. I’m just messing with you. Look, you’re new to this, I know, but I find it really cute how you’re acting. You’re so shy. You don’t have to be nervous in front of me. Or embarrassed. You’re beautiful, Junmyeon. Every inch of you.”

Junmyeon swallowed, lashes fluttering as Yifan kissed him once more. He lost himself, drowning in kisses as he momentarily forgot he was about to lose his virginity, sitting there naked on Yifan’s bed, until he felt something brush against the swollen length between his legs. He jerked back, eyes shooting open so that he could look, and there was Yifan’s hand, loosely wrapped about him.

He gulped.

“Easy,” Yifan cooed, slowly moving his hand up and down, stroking him. Junmyeon could feel himself swelling, his cock easily getting heavier in Yifan’s grip. “Just relax. I’ll take care of you.”

It was a bit of a blur from there. Yifan teased him a little, soft touches and warm kisses, and Junmyeon found himself moaning shyly in response after a while, arching into Yifan’s touch. Yifan helped him lie down after a bit, working a pillow under his hips to make him more comfortable and to give him more leverage. He could see the bulge pressing against the front of Yifan’s underwear as he moved to rummage around in his nightstand.

He swallowed. This was it.

“You ready?” Yifan asked him, voice soft as he opened the bottle of lube, drizzling a generous amount onto his fingers. “It’s going to be uncomfortable. Tell me if you need me to slow down or stop. Okay?”

“Okay,” Junmyeon mumbled, cheeks painted pink as he looked up at the ceiling. He was getting nervous once more, his muscles tightening in response.

And they tightened so much that when Yifan tried to press one finger into him, he couldn’t.

“Junmyeon,” Yifan started, his brow creasing as he frowned. “You need to relax. It isn’t going to go in unless you relax.”

Cheeks absolutely burning, eyes gridlocked onto the ceiling, Junmyeon sucked in a few rapid but shaky breaths in an attempt of calming his nerves. It took him a minute, but at long last, his muscles relaxed a bit. He heard the whisper of Yifan’s words telling him to hold still, and he _barely_ managed not to jolt when he felt the tip of Yifan’s finger against his entrance yet again. It didn’t hurt, not yet, but it was foreign and _weird_ and Junmyeon sucked in a startled breath as the digit slowly slipped inside of him. Yifan knew when to pause and when to rest, halting briefly to let Junmyeon relax again when he involuntarily clenched down in panic.

“Hurts?” Yifan asked him, and Junmyeon, red-faced and eyes crunched closed in embarrassment, lightly shook his head. Oh _man_ was it weird, having a piece of Yifan inside of him. Yifan’s fingers were so long and much thicker than his own and it felt nothing like the few instances of experimentation when he had slipped his own fingers into the same place. Yifan hummed, slowly moving his finger back, pulling out a bit. “I’m going to put in another, alright?”

The second finger didn’t hurt, per se, but Junmyeon was feeling a bit of discomfort. His rhythm did not help at all, still trying to adjust to what was slipping within, and it left him tightening and relaxing every few seconds. He did, however, jerk when Yifan began to spread his fingers apart.

“Hey, hey,” Yifan cooed quickly, his free hand coming to press down gently on Junmyeon’s hipbone, yet with enough force to keep him still. His fingers had paused, spread wide. “You okay? I know it’s weird but I have to prepare you, or it’ll hurt even more once we start.”

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but the third finger actually _hurt_. Junmyeon jolted unconsciously, gasping, insides tightening as if trying to reject Yifan entirely. Yifan paused immediately, eyes glazed with concern as he looked over his boyfriend carefully. It was a slow process, from then on, Junmyeon panting with a mixture of pain and arousal as he told Yifan to wait, trying to adjust, before allowing him to proceed, before telling him to stop again. The stretch was uncomfortable and painful if he was being honest with himself, struggling to keep himself relaxed as Yifan slowly and patiently spread him open.

“You’re doing so well, Junmyeon,” Yifan said softly. Junmyeon’s eyes were open in meager slits, his bare chest already heaving up and down. It stung, and it was painful, but it felt good at the same time, felt _good_ to have Yifan slowly filling him like this. The pleasure was evident, visible in the form of precum gathering about the slit of his cock as it rested against his stomach. Fingers still moving slowly and spreading wide, Yifan carefully bent himself in half, long limbs coming in handy as he managed to stoop down enough to place a chaste kiss on Junmyeon’s slick lips. “You’re doing _so_ well. You look so beautiful like this.”

It felt like an eternity before Yifan stopped what he was doing. There was a beat of silence aside from Junmyeon’s labored breathing, a moment of not-quite-touching as Yifan glanced down to admire his handiwork. Junmyeon let out a squeak as Yifan reached down to pat him on the curve of his bottom that he could actually reach, playfully giving one cheek a little squeeze as he pulled away.

“That should be enough,” Yifan commented then, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed so that he could rummage in his nightstand. It was the sound of crinkling that made Junmyeon’s heart stop. Condom. He was really about to have sex with Yifan, and his brain was working on overdrive as the realization settled into his bones. Yifan then eased himself back into position beside Junmyeon, tossing the still sealed condom packet a bit higher up the bed to join the bottle of lube. “Feeling okay?”

“I’m okay,” Junmyeon murmured. There was a hint of nervousness in his voice and his thighs were shaking a little. He was embarrassed and the anxiety was settling in now entirely. He was ready, he knew he was, but he was scared. He didn’t know what to expect. He swallowed. “Yifan?”

“Mm?” Yifan hummed, glancing over at him.

“Is it gonna hurt?” Junmyeon asked hesitantly, pulling his lower lip between his teeth.

“Well… Yes, it’ll probably hurt, especially since you haven’t done this before. But don’t be scared, alright?” Yifan replied, his facial features softening as he reached out with one hand to brush Junmyeon’s hair out of his sweaty face. “I’ll take good care of you. That’s a promise.”

Junmyeon swallowed. “O-Okay.”

“Do you trust me?” Yifan then asked, not daring to take his eyes off of Junmyeon. When the boy nodded shyly in reply, Yifan smiled a bit. “Exactly. I’m not going to break that trust. If you want me to stop, I will. Otherwise? I’ll make sure to take care of you.”

Junmyeon bobbed his head slightly in a small nod. Yifan flashed him the tiniest bit of a grin, rising onto his knees for a moment so he could scoot closer, and Junmyeon propped himself up onto his elbows so that he could get a better view of what was going on. It finally dawned on him that Yifan still had his underwear on, framed by those strong thighs and long legs, and he nearly _gulped_ as he dared himself to watch. For just a moment, he could see the hardened bulge pressing against the fabric, but that thought quickly fled his mind as Yifan reached for the waistband. There was a brief moment of adjusting, Junmyeon biting his lip as Yifan slipped the curve of his thumb underneath the elastic to free himself. His throat felt so dry then, watching Yifan’s cock eagerly rise now that it didn’t have any restriction. Yifan didn’t seem to notice his gaze, preoccupied as he raised his hips off the bed just enough to peel his underwear off before chucking it onto the floor.

When he glanced up, Junmyeon was staring unabashedly at his crotch.

“See something interesting?” Yifan asked then, chuckling softly when Junmyeon jumped, startled, at the sudden inquiry. “Then again, I don’t think you’ve ever seen a dick in real life, aside from your own.”

“Just in videos and stuff. That’s all,” Junmyeon mumbled shyly, cheeks turning pink as he sat up, trying not to feel self-conscious, despite how they were both naked and his hole was wet from lube. He furrowed his brow, stealing a glance at Yifan. “Why is yours so much bigger than mine?”

Yifan snorted in amusement. “What, are you jealous?”

“…Maybe a little,” Junmyeon admitted. He felt a bit better now, more comfortable; even if the topic at hand was a little unconventional, it helped calm his nerves. He glanced back down then, and before he could stop himself, he spoke up once more. “Can I…?”

Yifan just hummed in approval, not bothering to ask Junmyeon to elaborate or expand his hanging question. Licking his lips nervously, Junmyeon slowly and hesitantly lifted one hand. He paused for a moment, uncertain, before gathering his courage and gently wrapping his fingers loosely about Yifan’s cock. It was definitely bigger than his own, and he bit his lip, unable to quit _staring_ even though he knew he was probably being creepy. In the stillness, he could hear Yifan’s pattern of soft breaths, and, as Junmyeon, deciding to be a bit courageous, slid his hand slowly down the stiff length, Yifan let out a muffled grunt.

If anything, that only encouraged Junmyeon. Curiosity was getting the best of him. The noise in the back of Yifan’s throat stalled him only for a moment before he moved again, curling his fingers in closer to make a tighter ring. It was weird, immensely so, touching someone else like this, but at the same time, almost satisfactory. It was as if Yifan’s body was rewarding him, showing that it liked his handiwork; Yifan’s breathing was getting a bit heavier, his cock getting a bit more swollen in his hand. And apparently he did somethingright, because one experimental flick of his wrist left Yifan _groaning_ , one of his hands shooting downward to clench tightly about Junmyeon’s wrist.

He hadn’t seen that one coming, but his body seemed to love it. There was a soft and startled gasp that passed his lips and that throaty, baritone sound jumped _right_ to his dick, jerking as it rested heavily against his upper thigh. Yifan’s hand was gripping his wrist so tightly, his eyes hooded and glazed over with newfound lust.

And with a low growl of arousal echoing in the back of his throat, Yifan lunged. Junmyeon’s yelp was embarrassingly high-pitched as Yifan practically tackled him onto the bed, shoving him back down flat of his back before bending over him. There was no time to think as Yifan suddenly kissed him, possessive and wanting. Junmyeon’s moan was soft, breaking off into a whine as Yifan’s tongue shoved into his mouth, absolutely devouring him. There was one thing he would never get used to, and that was Yifan’s kisses, always enough to make his senses go wild and beg for more.

“You drive me crazy,” Yifan murmured as he broke away, swiping his thumb over his lower lip to wipe away the saliva that had connected the two of them. He was still perched over Junmyeon, hands planted firmly on either side of his face as he stared down at him. His chest was heaving, broad but bony shoulders matching the same pace. “I don’t know how I managed to resist you for this long.”

Yifan leaned back then, settling his weight on his knees. His hands came to rest on Junmyeon’s thighs, gentle but firm and an underlying possessiveness beneath those big fingers. His eyes seemed to be asking, and Junmyeon had the answer.

“It’s okay,” he blurted out quickly, feeling entirely bare under the intensity of Yifan’s stare. “You can—You can start. It’s okay. Just promise you won’t, um, do…it…really hard.”

“I don’t plan on being rough with you. My intent isn’t to fuck you,” Yifan rumbled, low in his chest, voice deep and dripping with arousal. “I’m going to make love to you until you go out of your fucking mind.”

Oh, _damn._ Junmyeon gulped, nodding rapidly as he watched Yifan get situated. It was erotic, lying there with his neck craned so that he could watch Yifan stroke himself, pumping his cock rapidly to get himself as hard as he could. Time seemed to be moving so slowly then. It felt like an eternity before Yifan reached for the condom wrapper, ripping it open with ease before rolling it onto his cock. Junmyeon settled back down on the bed, trying to get comfortable, letting out a shaky breath as he heard the familiar click emitting from the cap of the lubricant bottle.

“Ready?” Yifan asked him then, his voice soft and yet so eager, so painfully _ready_. Junmyeon nodded rapidly, not daring to look at him, cheeks pink and sweat already sticking to his skin. He could hear Yifan’s worried whispers, asking him several more times if he was okay, and every time, Junmyeon nodded along. He jumped as he felt _something_ lightly running along the area of his entrance. “If you need me to stop, you need to tell me.”

Junmyeon merely nodded again, fingers twisting anxiously into the sheets.

“Breathe deeply,” Yifan ordered, one hand coming to rest on the back of Junmyeon’s thigh, pushing his legs up a bit higher to give himself more room as he seated himself between Junmyeon’s limbs. “Relax.”

Yifan’s fingers did not compare to it at _all_. Junmyeon’s mouth immediately fell open in a startled and pained gasp, hips arching as Yifan began to breach him. With a wet, slick sound, Yifan started to push in the tip of his cock, brow furrowed in concentration as he entered gradually. He knew when to push and when to rest, following the pace of Junmyeon’s body and slowly filling him. There was nothing but pure nonsense leaving Junmyeon’s mouth, panicked gasping noises and incoherent gurgles as his body launched into a state of extreme stimulus. He was being bombarded with so many sensations at once he didn’t know what to do, but one thing he did know, was that it _hurt,_ pain shooting up the base of his spine instantly. But he couldn’t get his mouth to work, his chest desperately heaving up and down as Yifan continued to enter, feeding it to him, inch by grueling inch. And he knew that by the sensation alone that Yifan was _huge_ , stretching him and stuffing him absolutely full, sliding deeper and deeper and _deeper_ and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, choking on his own breaths as his skin flushed pink, tears swimming in his eyes, so full so full _so full—_

“ _Fuck,”_ Yifan groaned from above him, sweaty palms clutching the underside of his thighs to hold his legs up. His eyes had slipped closed, basking in the pleasure of being inside of his boyfriend. He was at last balls deep, greedily filling every space within him. “You’re so _tight_ , Junmyeon.”

It felt so good being inside Junmyeon like this, filling him completely. He could feel Junmyeon’s insides fluttering around him, slick and wet and _hot._ Yifan held still for a moment, trying to let Junmyeon adjust to being stuffed full. After a second, Yifan’s eyes peeled back open, staring down at the younger male beneath him. Junmyeon’s eyes were screwed shut, hands fisting into the bed sheets, squirming slightly in discomfort. Yifan could see the pinched state of his brow, a pained expression on his face, and was rapidly becoming aware of the fact Junmyeon was clenching down on him because he was so tense, only seeming to be causing himself more pain because he couldn’t relax. He was in so much discomfort that he was visibly going soft, and for Yifan, that raised a massive red flag.

“Babe, look at me,” Yifan said gently, and Junmyeon suddenly let out a soft sob, his head thrown to one side so that he could avoid the man’s gaze, the caring nickname not registering at all at the moment. “Junmyeon, please, what’s wrong?”

“H-Hurts,” Junmyeon choked out, his eyes opening, and Yifan felt something deep inside his chest twist as he realized Junmyeon was _crying_. “It h-hurts, Yifan.”

“I know it does,” Yifan cooed softly, reaching down to rub the pad of one large thumb along the groove of Junmyeon’s hipbone. Junmyeon didn’t react to that, whimpering loudly in his throat instead. His eyes were still closed, pain scribbled all over his already damp face. Yifan frowned at the lack of response, letting his hand wander now, and wrapping huge fingers gently about Junmyeon’s cock. Junmyeon gasped softly, a tiny, shy moan passing from his reddened, swollen lips as Yifan pumped him slowly in attempt of distracting him. “There, is that better? It’ll feel good soon, Junmyeon, I promise.”

“Still hurts,” Junmyeon ground out, hiccupping, with tears dribbling down his cheeks. His face was turning a deep red, both from the heated flush of sex, and probably from embarrassment. Junmyeon had never done anything like this before. No one else had ever been inside him, no one had ever touched him like this, no one had even seen him naked before. This was all a totally new experience for Junmyeon and Yifan could tell he was nervous and shy and probably a bit humiliated too. “Hurts a l-lot.”

Yifan’s hand stilled then, still wrapped around the base of Junmyeon’s dick. He frowned, hovering over the boy, his own cock twitching impatiently inside of Junmyeon’s body, begging him to move. Him being well-endowed and Junmyeon having no experience probably wasn’t helping with the pain. “Did you want me to take it out?”

Junmyeon had said he wanted it, but if he was this uncomfortable and nervous and suddenly changed his mind, then all Yifan could do was give him his space and they could try again another time. Yifan didn’t want to force Junmyeon into something he didn’t want. If Junmyeon said no, it meant no. He wanted it to be special, having Junmyeon lose his virginity; he wanted it to be something Junmyeon didn’t regret. He wanted to make Junmyeon feel good. He wanted to show Junmyeon that he loved him. But if Junmyeon wasn’t ready, then he wasn’t ready.

“N-No.” Junmyeon was trembling as he let out a strained hiccup. He squeezed his eyes shut so tightly colors danced behind his eyelids, tears rolling down his cheeks. “W-Wait. Just w-wait, I need to—I—“

He wasn’t making much sense and he knew it, but how could he when his brain was too preoccupied? There was only one thing he could focus on and that was the thickness of Yifan’s cock within him, stretching him so thin. His breathing was loud as he struggled to get more oxygen into his lungs, trying to relax, struggling to adjust. It took _forever_ to somewhat get used to it, the pain still there, for obvious reasons, but no longer searing and unbearable like it had been a moment ago.

“I’m okay,” he breathed, partially lying because it still _hurt_ but at his tears had dried, sans for the ones lingering in the corners of his eyes that had yet to fall. He could have sworn he felt Yifan’s dick twitch inside of him at those words. “I t-think I’m good.”

“You’re sure?” Yifan murmured, paying close attention to Junmyeon’s face, watching for any further sign of discomfort. Junmyeon nodded weakly, eyes cracked open just a smidge, fingers clenched into the sheets and his chest rapidly rising and falling. When Yifan didn’t speak, Junmyeon nodded once more, with more force this time, as if confirming his words. He was more relaxed now, and if he said he was okay, then Yifan was going to trust him. “I’m going to move. Don’t panic. Just relax.”

That was his warning. Junmyeon only nodded in response, unsure of what to expect, and it was obvious from his startled gasp as Yifan slowly pulled himself out, only halfway to start, before pushing back inside. When Junmyeon didn’t object to the movement, Yifan continued, slowly finding his own rhythm. It wasn’t rough nor too fast, and, without even thinking, Junmyeon found himself moaning, able to just _feel_ Yifan moving within him, head of his cock scraping against the pleasure points that lined his walls.

“You’re so good, Junmyeon,” Yifan whispered, keeping his weight balanced on his knees as he bent himself in half. Junmyeon, blearily, wondered if Yifan was just trying to take weight off his lower back or be closer to him, but it didn’t matter in the end because all he could then focus on was the sensation of Yifan’s lips moving against his torso. “The _best.”_

Yifan didn’t stop. Keeping his hips moving in that same repetitive rhythm, he trailed kisses up the expanse of Junmyeon’s torso, lips softly moving north until they were at his chest. And although Junmyeon didn’t see it, Yifan suddenly opened his mouth, pushing himself in as deep as he could go as he suddenly sucked one of Junmyeon’s nipples in between his teeth, biting down.

Junmyeon’s hips unconsciously bucked as he let out a sharp, pleased moan. He could hear Yifan’s chuckle against his skin as the professor slid his cock out a bit, pulling back enough to let go of the swollen bit of flesh between his teeth. And Yifan definitely didn’t give him a break after that, already moving to the other side as one hand toyed with the other nipple playfully. Junmyeon’s hips jerked again as he moaned, and, the angle must have been just right, because as Yifan rocked himself back inside, Junmyeon saw _stars_ , pleasure bursting in his veins as he shrieked.

“Found it,” Yifan murmured against his torso, curve of his smile resting against his skin as he peppered kisses up Junmyeon’s body. He lowered himself, still balancing his weight on his knees as he rested his torso against Junmyeon’s own. Junmyeon couldn’t shut up, couldn’t stop moaning, gasping and gurgling as Yifan ground into him, repetitively shoving the head of his cock into that sensitive bundle of nerves. His legs had come to wrap around Yifan’s waist, as if trying to pull him in deeper, nails scratching desperately at Yifan’s exposed back. He could feel Yifan breathing against his neck, kissing and sucking until the skin darkened.

“God, you’re so good,” Yifan panted against his neck, tongue smoothing against the hickey he had left behind. “You’re so beautiful, Junmyeon, take me so well, your body was fucking _made_ for me. I love you so damn _much_ —“

“I-I—“ Something within him came unhinged. Everything was suddenly too much, and he was drowning, gasping and moaning and sobbing in pleasure as Yifan thrust into him, abusing that one special place within him, kissed him, marked him. And for the first time since they had had started dating, those three little words fell from his mouth. “I l-love you too—“

Junmyeon’s back suddenly arched, his cry startled and sharp as he came. His hips bucked desperately, and Yifan fucked him through it, slowly ground the head of his cock in as deep as he could possibly go as Junmyeon convulsed beneath him, _bawling_ in white-hot pleasure. His length was trapped between his belly and Yifan’s and he could _feel_ the mess he was making but he didn’t care, couldn’t care, couldn’t even focus because he _couldn’t stop cumming_ , shrieking and sobbing as he nearly clawed the blood out of Yifan’s back.

And when he finally fell down from his high, he felt exhausted, face pink and streaked with tears. Yifan had stopped moving, his dick lodged deep and firm all the way inside of him. Yifan sat up then, slowly, and Junmyeon, panting, felt the embarrassment creep inside of him as he noticed the ribbons of white that stained the both of them. Yifan, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care, merely humming as he swiped a few fingers up the curve of his middle to wipe it away.

Junmyeon didn’t know whether to feel aroused or grossed out by the way Yifan then casually stuck his fingers into his mouth to suck off his release.

“That was fast,” Yifan then commented, and Junmyeon’s cheeks burned red in shame, knowing he didn’t last long. Yifan just laughed softly under his breath, stooping back down to hover over him. “Relax. It’s fine. I know you’ve never done this before.”

Still trying to regain his breath, Junmyeon then realized he could still feel Yifan within him, hard and eager to move.

“Y-You haven’t…” Junmyeon started, panting around his words. “D-Don’t you need to—?”

“I’m not even close, but thanks for worrying about me,” Yifan teased softly, amusement lining his voice as he held still, seated comfortably between Junmyeon’s legs.

“Then move,” Junmyeon said, his body still quivering. “I-I can take it.”

“No, you can’t. You’re already going to be sore tomorrow. If I move at the pace I need, you won’t even be able to walk,” Yifan replied, and Junmyeon bit his lip, wondering just how hard and fast Yifan could actually drill into him. He felt Yifan move then, slowly sliding out until there was nothing left but the tip. And just like that, he was suddenly empty, achingly and weirdly empty as Yifan pulled out completely. “I can take care of it myself.”

“No—Wait, w-wait,” Junmyeon babbled, shaking as he propped himself onto his elbows, gazing past his softening length to look at Yifan’s own. He bit his lip. It was still swollen and huge, wet from the lube that coated his insides. “I’m here, you—You, um. Y-You can use me.”

Yifan just sat there for a long moment, processing what Junmyeon said. The boy’s face was red and he was stuttering with exhaustion and embarrassment but he looked so _desperate_ to be helpful.

“I’m not going to penetrate you again, but if this is what you really want,” Yifan began slowly and carefully, “then can you sit up?”

“I do want it,” Junmyeon mumbled, shaking as he slowly managed to sit upright on his own, trying not to think about the horrible emptiness within him or the pain that lingered in his lower half. “You made me, um, feel…f-feel good, so I want you to…”

“You’re so cute. How can I deny such a sweet request?” Yifan asked softly, his hand coming to rest against Junmyeon’s back to help support him. With Yifan’s assistance, Junmyeon found himself at the head of Yifan’s bed, clutching the headboard for support as he sat on his knees, legs spread apart. He heard the click of the cap again, the soft sound of lube drizzling over Yifan’s fingers. He jumped as one of Yifan’s hands then slid between his legs from behind, smearing the lubricant along the inside of his thighs. “This isn’t going to hurt you. I promise. It’ll just be a lot of friction.”

Junmyeon swallowed, nodding. “Are you going to…?”

“Yeah,” Yifan replied, as if reading his mind. He patted the inside of Junmyeon’s thigh teasingly. “Squeeze your legs together for me. Tighter. Good.”

Then he had been correct. Yifan really was going to use him, just like he had asked for, was going to thrust between his thighs until he came. He felt goose bumps rising on his arms. He wasn’t scared, no, and Yifan had said this wasn’t going to hurt. He wasn’t intimidated by this, not when he had just had Yifan inside of him, but he didn’t know what to expect.

He jumped as he felt the tip of Yifan’s cock prodding at the back of his legs, the back of his knuckles grazing against Junmyeon’s thighs as he tried to push himself in.

“Again: tell me if you want me to stop,” Yifan murmured, and Junmyeon bit his lip as he began to feel the tip of Yifan’s cock slipping between his wet legs. “Ready?”

Junmyeon hummed in reply and Yifan began to move then, his hips rocking as he forced himself the rest of the way in. Yifan was behind him, chest pressed against Junmyeon’s back, pelvis fitted squarely against the bottom curve of Junmyeon’s ass.

Yifan was right, it didn’t hurt, but it was a new, foreign sort of feeling. Yifan, after a few experimental rolls of his hips, seemed to have found a pace he liked, and it was much faster than the one he had used while he had been inside of Junmyeon. Faster and _harder_ too, Yifan’s hips snapping forward so violently his pelvis kept snapping against the back of Junmyeon’s ass with a wet _slap._

All he could feel was friction. Hot, delicious friction. He could hear Yifan’s breathing increasing from behind him, right in his ear, his hands coming to clutch Junmyeon’s hipbones to hold him still. The touch felt possessive even, dangerous in its own way, and Junmyeon didn’t know whether to focus on how he could feel Yifan’s fingertips pressing bruises into his skin or how his cock was slamming in and out of his thighs. Yifan’s grunts were soft and yet so full of arousal and it made his blood boil as he focused on them, knowing _he_ was the one making Yifan feel so good.

And without his own input, his dick twitched between his legs, slowly starting to fill again.

And absently, Junmyeon noticed that Yifan had lost the slow, gentle pace he had taken while he had been inside of him. Yifan had been so careful, so slow, so deep, so _gentle_ when he slept with him, showering him with loving kisses and caresses and murmurs. But right now, Yifan was moving as fast he could, his cock moving between Junmyeon’s legs in rough thrusts. And very vaguely, Junmyeon wondered if there would ever be a day where Yifan moved just like that _inside_ of him. He couldn’t help but imagine it, Yifan pounding him senseless, his dick spreading him open and making Junmyeon feel so good all he could do is cry and scream for more.

The thought alone had him rock hard, and Junmyeon moaned softly, bowing his head as he tightened his grip on the headboard. Yifan groaned, pleased, from behind him, digging his fingernails into Junmyeon’s hipbone.

“You like it?” Yifan panted behind him, slamming himself in as hard as he could go. “I do. You’re amazing, you know that? So _wonderful—“_

Junmyeon was overloaded. Too much was happening at once and he was drowning in the wonderful sensations that tore through his body. Yifan’s bedframe was creaking violently beneath them, headboard rattling wildly. Junmyeon kept his fingers wrapped around it so firmly that his knuckles were turning white, his head bowed as he gasped, struggling to even breathe. He was still kneeling, thighs squeezed together as tightly as he could get them, Yifan’s cock pushing between them at a violent rate.

Yifan’s hands were clutching his hipbones to hold him still, but his mouth was wandering, letting out sighs and groans of pure pleasure in between the kisses and nips he pressed against Junmyeon’s skin. He sucked hickeys into the flushed flesh of Junmyeon’s neck. He peppered kisses down his shoulder. His teeth tugged on Junmyeon’s earlobe. And somehow, he was still keeping that wild pace, hips snapping back and forth relentlessly, shoving his dick between Junmyeon’s legs like his life depended on it. He could hear Yifan’s pelvis slapping against his rear, and he wantedto be embarrassed at the way he could literally _feel_ the cheeks of his ass jiggling in response, but he wasn’t. He was too wrapped up in the moment to really care anymore, moaning pathetically as he dared himself to release the headboard with one hand, shakily reaching for his cock, hard with precum slowly oozing from it.

Fisting his hand around himself, free hand still clenching the headboard desperately, Junmyeon’s body was slowly breaking down from their session. He was trembling, thighs shaking violently underneath him as he struggled to keep them closed, and to hold out a little longer. He had already found release once, but he could feel his second orgasm rising, ready to strike at any moment. Closing his eyes, and throat bobbing as he struggled to get a fresh breath of air into his overworked lungs, Junmyeon squeezed his cock, shakily running his palm from base to tip.

He barely managed to give himself three strokes before Yifan seemed to have realized what he was doing, signaled by the rhythmic jerks of Junmyeon’s arm. Still fucking his thighs at a rapid pace, Yifan’s left hand released its death grip on Junmyeon’s hipbone, instead circling around to the student’s front. Yifan swatted his hand away with no mercy, large palm and long fingers squeezing around his cock. Junmyeon’s spine arched impulsively, a startled whine passing through his lips as he threw his head back as Yifan began to jerk him off, coupled almost _perfectly_ to the thrusting pace of his hips.

“Y-Yifan,” Junmyeon moaned, all ten fingers clawing helplessly at the wood of the headboard. His thighs were trembling. His skin was flushed and sweating. His heart was racing. His mind was spinning. His throat was burning. His hips were jerking. And his cock was _aching_. “I’m g-going to—“

“A little more,” Yifan interrupted, voice hoarse as he mouthed the words against the reddened, bruised skin that decorated the junction of Junmyeon’s neck and shoulder. One hand still gripping Junmyeon’s dick, his other unfurled from the boy’s hipbone and wedged between their bodies, grabbing a generous handful of Junmyeon’s ass as it continued to shake from his thrusts. He was sucking a new hickey onto Junmyeon’s shoulder, hips rocking, one hand squeezing his rear as his other continued to slide up and down the boy’s cock. “I’m close, just a little more, just try to hold on for me—“

“Yifan, I c-can’t,” Junmyeon sobbed, tears pricking his eyes as he swallowed, head tipped backwards. His entire body felt as if it was on fire, constant moans and whines passing his lips. He needed to cum, he had to, he needed it _now_. “Yifan, I—I—“

Precum was practically _dripping_ from Junmyeon’s cock, completely soaking Yifan’s fingers as he continued to slide his hand up and down Junmyeon’s length. He could feel it twitching desperately in his grip, rock hard and flushed, tinged the same pretty color as Junmyeon’s hickey-decorated skin. Yifan was panting, his pelvis moving in desperate rocking movements as he thrusted in harder, the friction a delicious burn against his dick.

He was close, so _close_ , a moan of desperation passing his lips as the hand resting on Junmyeon’s ass slipped around the boy’s torso. He wrangled Junmyeon closer, tugging the student backwards so that his back was resting against Yifan’s chest. Junmyeon was making a crescendo of sounds as he tipped his head back even farther, letting it press against Yifan’s shoulder as his hips twitched violently, his length practically glistening in Yifan’s hand from his own fluids smeared upon it as the older man continued to jerk him off. And with his free arm, Yifan kept it wrapped around Junmyeon’s torso, forcing the boy to stay pressed up against him. Junmyeon was moaning louder, louder, and _louder_ , his thighs shaking and somehow squeezing even tighter around Yifan’s cock.

They both needed just a _little_ more, and with a desperate gasp, Yifan let the hand resting on Junmyeon’s chest creep over before pinching one of Junmyeon’s nipples, teasing the sensitive and hardened flesh between two fingertips.

It was enough.

Sobbing, moaning, and shrieking all at once, Junmyeon came almost instantly. He was quaking violently against Yifan, body thrashing as his second orgasm of the night struck him with no mercy. He came all over Yifan’s hand, marking those large fingers with his own release. Junmyeon hardly noticed the way Yifan continued to stroke him through orgasm, completely losing himself in it as the world vanished into smoke around him. Choked, almost gargled noises of overwhelming pleasure left Junmyeon’s swollen lips as he writhed, still cumming mercilessly. His seed stained Yifan’s fingers, though quite a bit managed to escape, squirting viciously out of him and splattering onto both the headboard before him and onto one of Yifan’s pillowcases below, globs of white staining the fabric.

Junmyeon came so hard the edges of his vision began to blur, vaguely able to hear Yifan’s strangled moan as he finally, at long last, found his release, his cock still wedged between Junmyeon’s quivering thighs as he blew his load.

That was the last thing Junmyeon heard as his vision dimmed, white spots multiplying as they spread throughout his eyes. He didn’t feel Yifan’s arms wrapping tight around him to hold him up. Junmyeon’s body, sated and exhausted, slumped down towards earth, and he would have collapsed if it wasn’t for Yifan supporting his weight. Still struggling to breathe, heartbeat absolutely erratic in his chest as he _finally_ started to come back down from orgasm, Junmyeon’s eyes rolled back in his head as the world around him fell into blessed darkness.

When he woke up, he was lying down, soft sheets wrapped around him. He didn’t know how long he had been out of it, but it must have been quite a while. As he turned his head, there was Yifan, sprawled out on the bed beside him. He was fast asleep, snoring softly, not having bothered to dress himself. Junmyeon lifted the hem of the sheets to check, and Yifan at least had the decency to cover him up, as he was still naked too. But there was nothing to be embarrassed about, not anymore, not when he had just had sex with Yifan.

His heart felt mushy and oddly warm as he thought about that little fact. He turned slowly and carefully to face the slumbering man beside him, and, with some effort, propped himself up onto one elbow. He leaned over, managing to press a soft kiss onto Yifan’s cheek. He didn’t receive anything else in response but a snore, and yet, Junmyeon didn’t care. Things were perfect. There was nothing he could complain about.

The wait had definitely been worth it.

Exhausted, he merely smiled to himself as he curled back up under the covers, and drifted back off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter originally posted: 8 Apr 2017
> 
> A/N: Please note the fic is officially up-to-date with crossposting! Next chapter will be posted when it is finished being written


	27. Illusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ ILLUSION ]_
> 
> _an unreal, deceptive, or misleading appearance or image_

The air was cold. Morning sunlight spilled over the sheets. Junmyeon could feel the remnants of his deep, heavy sleep fading entirely, and he grunted low in his throat. Nose wrinkling in distaste, brow furrowing, and eyes scrunching together tightly, Junmyeon at last stopped resisting and allowed himself to wake. He blearily blinked his eyes open, squinting for a brief moment against the rays of sun that splashed across the mattress. It took him a second, but it slowly dawned on him that he was still curled up beneath the covers of Yifan’s bed.

The memories all came flooding back in a heartbeat of what he and Yifan had done together. Junmyeon felt a tinge of heat fighting to rise to the surface of his cheeks, swallowing thickly as he recalled every second of the night prior. He and Yifan had slept together.

The memory alone was enough to make him shiver.

Following the sound of deep and steady breaths, Junmyeon’s head swiveled to one side to find Yifan fast asleep beside him. The blankets were swaddled around his waist, and Junmyeon could feel his cheeks threatening to warm. Seeing Yifan bare from the chest up was enough of a sight, but seeing the curve of his hipbones peeking out from the twisted hem of the comforter was another story. He supposed it was a little ironic; even though they had slept together, the sight of Yifan even partially undressed outside the heat of the moment was enough to make him shy.

Feeling an ache in his stomach that warned him he had overslept and his body needed food, Junmyeon attempted to sit upright, only to immediately regret it. He only made it halfway before he felt a surge of pain race across the column of his spine, a distinct ache in his lower half accompanying it that he _knew_ was because of the risqué activities he had done with Yifan the night prior. Still, he hadn’t been expecting it, and with a rather loud sound that was a mesh between a snarl and a breathless gasp, he collapsed back onto the bed, one hand instantly shooting down to hold at his lower back.

Yifan, beside him, let out an incoherent mumble at the sensation of the bed shifting around, facial muscles twitching slightly.

Speaking through gritted teeth, Junmyeon reached out with his free hand to give Yifan a gentle but helpful nudge. “Yifan? You awake?”

“Mm…” Yifan mumbled, eyebrows pinching together unhappily as he began to pull from the depths of sleep. A few more taps and pushes from Junmyeon was at last enough to awaken him, his dark hair strewn across the sheets and into his eyes. After a moment passed, gathering his bearings in the process, Yifan at last let out an unflattering yawn. He lazily turned his head to give Junmyeon a sleepy, dopey grin, obviously not fully awake yet. “’re still here.”

“Of course I’m still here,” Junmyeon replied, unable to stop the small grin from creeping onto his lips. It wasn’t often he had the opportunity of seeing Yifan like this, barely conscious and vulnerable and… Well, if he had to admit it, oddly cute. “Where else _would_ I be?”

“I dunno. Kitchen,” Yifan mumbled, reaching up with both hands to rub at his eyes. “Eating my donuts again.”

“Oh, come on, that was only one time,” Junmyeon whined.

“One time was enough,” Yifan sleepily mumbled, yawning once more. He attempted to arch himself in order to stretch, only to immediately freeze in place, one hand shooting down under the blankets to cradle his lower back. “ _Shit_ , that hurts.”

“What does? Your back?” Junmyeon asked, biting his lower lip in concern. “Shouldn’t I be the one with the back pain here?”

“Well, yeah, but—“ Yifan started, clenching his jaw and sucking in a pained gasp between his teeth, “mine is _killing_ me here. I think I went a little too hard on you last night.”

Junmyeon’s cheeks flushed a bit. “Um, well, I guess it’s from when…you know, my thighs and whatnot.”

Despite the pain he was in, Yifan laughed a little under his breath before he managed to roll onto his stomach. He stretched out, trying to relax his spine as much as possible to alleviate some of his symptoms. “It’s called intercrural sex, Junmyeon.”

The previous pink in Junmyeon’s face abruptly darkened in shade. “O-Oh. Okay.”

“You’re so cute. We literally slept together last night; no reason to be embarrassed,” Yifan said with a hitch of amusement in his voice. “Seriously, it’s adorable that you’ve finally had sex but still can’t say the word sex.”

“I’m not cute,” Junmyeon muttered, just barely loud enough for Yifan to hear him.

“Yes you are,” Yifan argued, flipping himself over and onto one side. “You’re adorable.”

“What are you doing?!” Junmyeon squawked, feeling Yifan’s weight flop on top of him all of a sudden as the professor rolled over a little more. Yifan had his face burrowed down into the crook of his neck, front of his body draped on top of Junmyeon’s own without a care in the world. “Get off of me!”

“Why?” Yifan asked casually. Junmyeon could clearly imagine the smirk on his lips as he spoke into the junction of his neck and shoulder.

“Because you’re heavy, and you’re—You’re _naked,”_ Junmyeon choked out, stuttering slightly and red-faced as he reached out to give Yifan a push. “It’s weird!”

“So it’s weird for me to cuddle you when I have no clothes on,” Yifan started, “but it wasn’t weird that I was literally inside of you last night?”

Junmyeon’s cheeks burned red. “That is _not_ the same thing and you know it.”

To his surprise, Yifan actually _laughed_ in response, gentle and breathy. His shoulders merely shrugged as he buried his face into the soft skin of Junmyeon’s neck, arms lazily looping under Junmyeon’s torso to hug him closer. “Yeah, yeah. You’re so cute when you get flustered, you know that? Gimme five more minutes, and I’ll get up. Okay? ‘M still sleepy.”

Junmyeon wanted to argue, but he just couldn’t find it within himself to say anything in return. Instead, cheeks dusted red and eyes glued awkwardly onto the ceiling, Junmyeon remained frozen in place, knowing he couldn’t move until Yifan decided to spare him and get out of bed.

* * *

The morning was slow. For Junmyeon it felt rather odd, to still be nestled within the four walls of Yifan’s apartment, as if he actually lived there. He was the first to shower, and that was awkward enough on its own, not only because it was _Yifan’s_ shower, but because of various other factors as well. The way he caught sight of the ring of hickeys adorning his neck when he hobbled past the mirror suspended above the bathroom sink. The bruises that were stamped into his skin from Yifan’s fingertips were there too, and Junmyeon, red-faced, counted them with his eyes as he stood under the flow of hot water.

It almost felt like he wasn’t fully awake, as if he was stuck in some weird dreamscape. He had slept with Yifan the night before, for starters, but there were some other changes too. For example, how he had just gotten out of the shower and had the towel secured around his waist when Yifan barged into the bathroom through the open door. Sure, Junmyeon had his towel, and he had opened the door himself, so it wasn’t like it was a privacy issue.

The main problem was that Yifan still hadn’t bothered to dress himself when he came wandering into the bathroom.

“ _Yifan!”_ Junmyeon shrieked, one hand flying skyward to quickly clap over his eyes. “You can’t just—!”

“Why would I get dressed when I’m about to take a shower?” Yifan asked, his voice hitching briefly as he let out a soft laugh. He was obviously in a good mood. “Relax, it’s not like you haven’t seen any of it before.”

Junmyeon, face aflame, peeked out from between his fingers to find Yifan studying himself in the mirror, stepping around in tiny circles to examine his reflection. 

“Wow,” Yifan commented, eyebrows arching as he twisted from side to side to admire the long, bloody red scratch marks from Junmyeon’s fingernails that decorated the column of his back. “It looks like I had sex with Edward Scissorhands.”

If possible, Junmyeon’s cheeks grew even darker, burning hot at that comment. Had he really done that? From between his fingers, he could see the scratches plain as day, raked down Yifan’s upper back and trailing down his spine. He could vaguely remember it, desperately grabbing onto Yifan while they had sex, as if pressing his fingers into the man’s skin would help anchor him. He hadn’t known that he had dug in _that_ much. He actually felt a little guilty about it; the scratches were a bright and ugly red and _looked_ painful.

“Sorry,” Junmyeon then blurted, shame creeping into his voice as Yifan turned his head sideways to glance at him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I should’ve been more careful.”

“It’s a bit sore, but that’s it. I know you didn’t mean it,” Yifan said, shrugging his shoulders loosely as he turned away from the mirror and instead wandered over to the shower. “It’s fine either way. Just needs some Vaseline or something and it’ll be good to go. Besides, it’s payback, I guess, considering I marked you up pretty well.”

Junmyeon paused for a moment, trying to comprehend what Yifan meant by that. The professor turned just enough to give him a suggestive wink, and Junmyeon suddenly remembered the appearance of his skin, marred by the crescent moons of fingernails, bruises, and the darkened flesh of countless hickeys.

Yifan managed to climb into the shower on his own, before Junmyeon could come up with a comeback, and he was left in silence that was broken only by the sound of running water as Yifan pulled the curtain shut. Junmyeon’s eyes absently wandered to the mirror once more as he kept a grip on his towel, still secured tightly around his waist. His skin was pink from the heat of the water, and yet, all Junmyeon could focus on were the marks that were stamped into his flesh. He wasn’t sure why, but seeing those dark spots lingering on his neck and shoulders made his stomach warm in the weirdest of ways, knowing that the only reason he had them in the first place was thanks to Yifan.

It was as if Yifan had marked him as _his_ , and Junmyeon didn’t exactly mind it.

For the first time in ages, Junmyeon didn’t have any stress lingering on his shoulders or hiding away in the cracks of his brain. He had been lacking any form of relaxation lately, his body constantly rigid with school-related stress and tension, but that morning, he felt okay. More than okay, actually, when he thought about it. He felt…well, _great._

It was almost becoming a habit, digging through Yifan’s wardrobe whenever he stayed the night. It was a rather lazy morning and Junmyeon didn’t feel like getting properly dressed. Instead, he wiggled his way into a pair of Yifan’s spare sweatpants. He was thankful that he and Yifan had a similar waist size, but it didn’t help that Yifan was too tall for his own good; it left the bottom hems of the pants scuffling against the carpet when Junmyeon walked, since he was shorter than Yifan was. He wound up tugging on one of Yifan’s baggy t-shirts to accompany the sweats, and judging by the name of the band scrawled across the front, he couldn’t help but wonder if Yifan had owned the shirt since his college days. It wouldn’t have surprised him, considering he had owned that tacky dragon tee for over a decade.

With his stomach still ordering him to eat, Junmyeon wandered into the kitchen, trying to ignore the dull ache that still throbbed in his lower back, and he tried even harder to not pay any mind to the odd hobble he had adopted overnight when he walked. He knew it was from what he and Yifan had done the night before, but it was embarrassing and he’d prefer not to think about it.

He was rummaging through the cabinets when Yifan came staggering into the kitchen, damp hair tossed every which way and he had thankfully gotten dressed at last.

“Purple looks good on you,” Yifan then commented, a smug grin on his face as he began digging around in a different cupboard, extracting one of his heat wraps.

Junmyeon’s cheeks reddened in a heartbeat, knowing perfectly well that Yifan was referring to the hickeys that were still visible on his neck, despite the fact he was already dressed. When he couldn’t get his voice to work, Junmyeon merely turned his head away.

“Oh, come on, no need to be embarrassed. I think they make you look sexy,” Yifan said coolly, still grinning slyly as he reached up to deposit his wrap into the microwave. “I could show you off to the world like this and everyone would know you’re mine.”

“What in the world has gotten into you?” Junmyeon then asked, face blotchy and stained red as he bit at his lower lip. “You’re being so—So _shameless_ today.”

“Dunno. Good mood, I guess,” Yifan replied casually, working on attaching his wrap to his lower back, the tabs making brief tacky sounds as they pressed against his skin. “My back hurts like hell but I actually feel pretty good otherwise. Not to sound crude or anything, but, well… To be honest, I guess it’s because I slept with you. I haven’t done anything like that in a long time, so…”

“Oh,” was all Junmyeon could say, the pink in his cheeks still not leaving fully. It made sense, now that he thought about it. He knew Yifan had been single for quite a while, after all. “Um. I’m glad I could help?”

Yifan chuckled softly as he smoothed his hand over the wrap. “I guess I should say thank you then?”

“You knew what I meant,” Junmyeon whined, his flushed cheeks puffing up in a grumpy pout, even when Yifan reached out to cup his jaw easily in one hand.

“You look so cute when you get mad, you know,” Yifan teased, not giving Junmyeon a chance to speak, “but seriously, thank you. I’m glad you trusted me enough to let me do something so intimate with you.”

His knees almost instantly went weak beneath him, turning straight into wobbly slabs of jelly when Yifan leaned in to give him a gentle kiss on the mouth. Slow and sweet, tender, and Junmyeon’s eyes fluttered shut on pure reflex as Yifan kissed him. The smallest of kisses were enough to make his head spin and Junmyeon just couldn’t get enough, even then, Yifan’s plump lips taking his breath away and tasting like the sharpness of his mint toothpaste.

Unfortunately for Junmyeon, his body betrayed him as per usual. It was the sound of a loud, rumbling growl emitting from his stomach that made Yifan pull away from him, and Junmyeon immediately felt the cold tendrils of shame swelling up inside of him.

Yifan, on the other hand, busted out laughing. “I think I’d better feed you before your stomach eats itself.”

“Well…” Junmyeon started, eyes awkwardly trailing to look at the clock integrated into the stove, “it’s nearly noon, so I guess we should make lunch?”

Yifan wrinkled his nose. “We can make something, but I really don’t feel like cooking something extensive, or remotely complicated. Can’t we just call in a takeout order or something instead?”

“I suppose? If that’s what you want. I don’t really care either way,” Junmyeon agreed, trying to ignore how his stomach was still audibly growling. “But I probably need _something_ in the meantime.”

“I don’t know about you, but I kinda want something sweet. We could bake something while we wait,” Yifan offered, not bothering to wait for Junmyeon to reply before he started rummaging around in his cabinets, extracting a measuring cup and an assortment of ingredients. “I’m out of donuts so, hey, we could make something else. Brownies? Do you like brownies? I have a ton of cocoa powder in here that I haven’t used yet.”

Junmyeon just cracked a small smile at Yifan’s ramblings and nodded once. “Brownies sound nice.”

Even though the winter air in Yifan’s apartment was cold, Junmyeon slowly warmed up due to the clothing he had nabbed from the closet, and because of working alongside Yifan in the kitchen. It was nice, to take the day slowly like that, pushing all of his worries away and merely focusing on the moment. They talked quietly and Junmyeon’s heart felt so light when he was able to see Yifan crack soft and sleepy smiles. Baking was definitely a mess; they had spilled cocoa powder all over the counter and Junmyeon had dropped an egg on the floor and broke it, but they were still having a good time, laughing and cracking jokes with one another the entire time.

And when he settled onto the couch alongside Yifan, their takeout delivery order set out on the coffee table, along with their brownies, Junmyeon wasn’t sure if he had ever felt so happy.

“To be honest,” Junmyeon commented, chewing thoughtfully on his mouthful of brownie as he remained curled up beside Yifan on the cushions, the weather channel playing quietly in the background. “I don’t really want to go back to the dorms today. It’s so much nicer being here with you.”

“Aw, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Yifan teased, shoveling another portion of food into his mouth, “aside from saying last night that you love me.”

Junmyeon’s cheeks flushed a bit and he turned his head to one side to avoid Yifan’s gaze. “Well, I did mean what I said…”

“I know. I’m just so glad to finally hear it,” Yifan murmured, suddenly leaning forward to set down his food. Junmyeon perked up at that, especially because Yifan was suddenly turning towards him, his face stoic and calm. “On that topic, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Unsure as to where the conversation was going, Junmyeon swallowed nervously and nodded once to show he was listening.

“Since we’re on the topic of love and you not wanting to go home, there’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long while and I guess now would be a good time to bring it up between us,” Yifan started calmly. “I’m not sure if you’ve already reclaimed your dorm room for next semester, and if you have, it’s fine, but… Junmyeon, you don’t have to make the decision now, but I would love to have you move in with me. I don’t mean as a temporary thing either; I mean as you staying here with me outside of weekends and date nights.”

Junmyeon blinked once, twice, and then he stuttered as he spoke. “You mean—You mean stay here with you?”

“As a permanent resident, yes,” Yifan replied calmly, his lips twitching into a small grin of amusement.

“I, um…” Junmyeon began, shyly averting his eyes to one side in embarrassment. Yifan had hinted around about him moving in before, but Yifan had never been so blunt regarding the topic up to this point. He was accustomed to Yifan’s straight-forward attitude, but the topic at hand threw him for a loop. “I already reclaimed my dorm room for next semester. I’ll be rooming with Sehun again.”

Yifan, however, didn’t seem deterred. He merely nodded. “It’s fine. Moving in with me can be your reward for finishing your first year of college.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Junmyeon whined, cheeks almost immediately warming.

“Well, either way,” Yifan continued, leaning forward to pluck another brownie from the plate sitting upon the coffee table, “whenever the opportunity arises, I’d love to have you here. The offer will always be open for you, Junmyeon. No need to rush or worry about it.”

Junmyeon could have sworn he felt his heart flutter. He was speechless for a moment, nibbling on one edge of his piece of brownie as he watched the animated clouds move across the screen of the weather forecast. Now that he thought about it, getting to spend every day like he was right then, curled against Yifan’s body and enjoying every second of the day and the relaxing atmosphere it was providing him, well, it didn’t sound bad at all.

Eyes downcast, Junmyeon missed the pleased, warm smile that overtook Yifan’s face when he spoke.

“I’d like that very much, I think.”

* * *

It snowed.

Junmyeon had been reluctant to leave Yifan’s apartment and head back to the dorms for a variety of reasons. He liked being in Yifan’s home more, he didn’t want to leave yet, he didn’t want to study or fall back into his usual routine.

After admitting his hesitance, Yifan merely hummed in response, before casually suggesting that Junmyeon should stay for one more night.

_“I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” Junmyeon weakly argued, fidgeting with the drawstring that adorned the front of Yifan’s sweatpants that he was wearing._

_“There’s no such thing as you overstaying your welcome around me. Did you forget I asked you to move in with me earlier?” Yifan joked. “It’s going to snow tonight. Ninety percent chance. There’s no way we’re having class tomorrow.”_

And in the end, Yifan had been correct. Junmyeon woke the next morning absolutely freezing, and when he hauled himself up onto his knees to peer through the blinds hanging from the window behind Yifan’s bed, he quickly discovered why.

The earth around them was caked in a thick blanket of white.

It was at times like these that Junmyeon remembered how different he and Yifan could be at times. After the realization that it had snowed, Junmyeon sprang out of bed, practically pouncing on top of Yifan in an attempt of waking him. He was talking a mile a minute, gushing about the snow, and Yifan had merely groaned at him unhappily, rolling back over and attempting to fall asleep once more.

But after enough of Junmyeon’s babbling and whining, Yifan finally crawled out of bed, a grumpy expression on his face.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Yifan whined two hours later, sitting on the couch with his arms folded across his chest. He was already fully dressed, bundled up in an assortment of layers with his thickest winter coat on top, his black boots clashing against the plain carpet. “You know how much I hate the cold, and you’re _honestly_ wanting me to come outside with you into that hell-tundra you have the audacity to call snow?”

Junmyeon, sitting on the floor and tugging on a second pair of socks, merely snorted. “Don’t be so overdramatic. It’s only snow, and we’re only going out together to take some pictures. Then we can come back inside and eat all the warm foods you want underneath all the warm blankets you have.”

Yifan sighed and heaved himself onto his feet. The many layers of clothes pulled over his frame made him look bulky, and he huffed as he bent over to grab his scarf off the couch. Taking a moment to wrap it snugly around his neck, Yifan turned and began to walk in the direction of the front door. “Let’s just get this over with. I’ll be waiting for you outside. Just come downstairs when you’re finished getting ready.”

“Sure,” Junmyeon agreed, not even glancing up, “I’ll be there in just a few minutes, I promise.”

Yifan only hummed. There was a brief sound of shifting fabric as Yifan slipped his phone into his jacket pocket. “Make sure you don’t forget the keys, okay?”

 The front door closed heavily as Yifan ventured out of the apartment, leaving Junmyeon alone. Tongue peeking out between his lips, Junmyeon at last managed to get on his additional pair of socks. Standing, Junmyeon pattered back into Yifan’s bedroom, rummaging around in the closet in search of an extra hat or scarf that he could wear. He found a simplistic black beanie and deemed it good enough, hurrying into the entranceway to begin tugging on his boots. Fully dressed at last, Junmyeon patted himself down to ensure he had his phone, before grabbing Yifan’s ring of keys, and stepped outside.

He let out a sharp breath, watching it cloud before him as he pulled the door closed. The winter air felt so cold and crisp, and Junmyeon sniffled a little, fitting Yifan’s housekey into the lock before turning to face the stairs. He frowned, tucking the keys into his pocket before reaching for the handrail. With the freezing temperatures overnight, it wasn’t very surprising that the stairs of the building were decorated with patches of ice. Carefully, Junmyeon began to descend the stairs, taking it one step at a time.

The journey went smoothly until Junmyeon was coming down from the second floor to the first, and it was then, standing on the landing, that he froze. The world suddenly felt like it had stopped turning. His limbs felt as if they were made of lead and Junmyeon suddenly could no longer move, only able to hear his own pulse echoing in his eardrums.

There, lying motionless on the stairs, was Yifan.

“Yifan,” Junmyeon then blurted, his voice wavering with fear and sounding so helpless and foreign in his own ears. He bolted down the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him, just barely managing to avoid slipping and falling as he crouched down beside Yifan. Eyes previously scrunched shut, Yifan allowed them to open a little, formed into squinted slits as he stared at Junmyeon in silence. His jaw was set, teeth tightly gritted as he continued to lie there motionless, flat of his back on the stairs. Junmyeon’s face was clouded over with worry and terror. “What _happened?_ Did you fall?”

Rather than rolling his eyes at the obvious question, Yifan’s head moved only slightly in a curt, small nod.

“Can you stand?” Junmyeon asked. Yifan’s head moved, once more, only a little, in a shake of denial to show that no, he couldn’t.

Junmyeon reached down and curled his hands about Yifan’s arms in an attempt of helping him up, only to freeze when one of Yifan’s gloved hands flew upwards, digging viciously into the back of his hand to stop him. Junmyeon stole a glance at his face, watching how Yifan had thrown his head downward, letting the back of his skull rest against one of the cold steps. Teeth still clenched together, muscles in his neck cording, Yifan squeezed his eyes shut all over again, fabric-clad fingers beginning to claw desperately at Junmyeon’s palm.

It then dawned on Junmyeon that Yifan was in so much pain from his fall that he couldn’t move.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” Junmyeon then blurted, releasing Yifan entirely so that he could rummage for his phone, missing how Yifan’s eyes suddenly shot wide open at those words. “I’ll call you an ambulance—“

“No,” Yifan then croaked, his voice tiny and weak and literally trembling with overwhelming pain. “No ambulance—“

“Yifan, this isn’t the first time you’ve fallen, and now you fell so badly that you can’t get up,” Junmyeon babbled, talking a mile a minute in panic. “You can’t even _move._ You need to go to the emergency room _now.”_

“No, no—No ambulance,” Yifan rambled through gritted teeth, words nothing more than a pain-filled, shaking whisper that Junmyeon could barely hear. “Hospital okay, but—No ambulance— _Please—“_

He must have been in pain if he was agreeing to go to the doctor, and Junmyeon knew it. He frowned in worry as he clutched his phone tightly in gloved fingers. “Yifan, you own a motorcycle. I can’t take you to the hospital on a motorcycle with you hurt, and I can’t _drive_ , remember? What else do you expect me to do? I’m calling you an ambulance.”

“ _No_ ,” Yifan pleaded, his voice desperate and raw and Junmyeon could have sworn he could see a thin film of tears forming over Yifan’s eyes. His speech was coming in short, broken bursts. “Call someone—Call Luhan, call _someone_ —No ambulance, _please_ Junmyeon—“

Junmyeon bit his lip, able to hear just how desperate Yifan was right then. He hesitated for a long moment, debating on what to do, before he reached out to extract Yifan’s phone from the depths of his jacket pocket so that he could search for Luhan’s phone number.

It was against his better judgement, but Junmyeon couldn’t find it in him to say no to his boyfriend.

* * *

He was, in the end, thankful that Luhan knew how to drive in snow. He wouldn’t have had a choice otherwise but to call an ambulance for Yifan. Even if he could drive, he couldn’t lift Yifan by himself; it took the combined effort of him and Luhan to help Yifan up as carefully as they could, carrying nearly his entire weight on their own with each of Yifan’s arms looped around their neck, wedging his large body in between them as they helped carry him to Luhan’s car. They laid him down length-wise in the backseat.

Junmyeon wasn’t sure if he had ever felt as scared as he did right then as he clambered into the passenger seat.

No one said a word the entire car ride, and Junmyeon could tell by the troubled look in Luhan’s eyes, that the history professor was just as worried as he was. Yifan couldn’t walk; it took the combined effort of Junmyeon and Luhan to help him into a wheelchair, and Junmyeon bit his lip at the look of pure shame that crept onto Yifan’s face when Junmyeon pushed him into the lobby of the emergency room.

The actual room felt too small and too stereotypical. Junmyeon, quietly biting his lip as he watched how Yifan curled into himself in humiliation, wheeled Yifan in himself. The nurse was a small woman and Junmyeon nervously sat beside Yifan’s wheelchair in a little brown chair that felt horribly uncomfortable underneath him.

Yifan had his hands clasped in his lap and Junmyeon wished he could hold them.

She was taking notes on Yifan, brown clipboard feeling so impersonal. The basics came first. Height, weight, allergies, medical history. Yifan, wrapped in his temporary back brace, managed to choke out answers the best he could.

“Have you had any falls in the past?” she asked.

“Several,” Yifan mumbled truthfully. “They’ve almost all ended with me landing on my back.”

“When would you say your symptoms first started?” was the next question.

Yifan licked his lips, rigid with the remaining pain, and stared down at his hands. “Five years ago, or so. I was in an accident. That’s pretty much when it began going downhill. I mean, the accident wasn’t _that_ bad, so—“

“What do you mean it wasn’t that bad?” Luhan then interrupted, standing on the opposite side of Yifan’s wheelchair. Junmyeon gazed up at him helplessly, listening to his angry ramble. “You had multiple breaks and fractures, a collapsed lung, a _ton_ of internal bleeding, you had to have a blood transfusion, and they had you on fucking _life support._ You almost _died_ , and you’re trying to say it wasn’t ‘that bad’?”

Yifan, however, remained silent, eyes downcast in shame.

“Mister Wu,” the nurse then slowly began, obviously trying not to let the argument affect the situation at hand. She clicked her pen twice. Yifan’s eyes, glazed over and embarrassed, rose a few inches to watch her. “It sounds like you have a lot of lingering trauma in your back from that accident, and it’s highly possible your most recent fall created an array of new damages. That, or your fall has only amplified the problems you have already been living with in your day-to-day life. Either way, we’ll need to do some testing first before I can give you anything official in terms of a diagnosis. Wait here for just a moment; I’ll go see if the x-ray technician has an extra slot available for you.”

The nurse left the three of them alone then. Junmyeon felt hope at that moment; he knew that Yifan finally seeing a doctor for his back pain was definitely a positive thing. Perhaps now they both would have answers as to why he was constantly in so much agony. He turned to Yifan then, ready to express how he felt, only to freeze as he noticed the devastated expression etched into Yifan’s face.

“Yifan?” Junmyeon then spoke, his voice nothing more a weak whisper. He reached out with one hand and laid it gently on Yifan’s forearm, only for the professor to shift his limbs away from him in rejection. Junmyeon frowned, his heart squeezing brutally in his chest with pure worry as he noticed how Yifan’s eyes had turned glassy, covered with a film of tears. “Yifan, what’s wrong?”

Yifan’s voice was nothing more than a croak then, and Junmyeon could feel his heart breaking as he watched tears suddenly plop down the man’s cheeks. “This is a fucking nightmare.”

“Yifan, I know there’s a lot going on for you, and that it hurts,” Junmyeon murmured, “but you’re at least going to finally get help now. You’re going to be okay.”

“You don’t _get_ it,” Yifan snapped, his throat closing up on him and he was choking, breaking down piece by piece with no warning. Junmyeon didn’t know what to do then, watching helplessly as Yifan sank back in his wheelchair. The brace on his back prevented him from hunching over, and he had no choice but to pathetically drape his forearm across his face to hide himself from their gaze. “It’s just one fucking thing after another and I’m so _sick_ of it.”

Junmyeon bit his lower lip worriedly. “Yifan—“

“I just want to be okay,” Yifan then rambled, his voice trembling and cracking through his tears. “Why is it that no matter how hard I try, it never gets better?”

Yifan’s body began to shake then, and Junmyeon had no idea of what to do as Yifan abruptly collapsed into heavy and heartbroken sobs.

* * *

Yifan had always loved art. Even as a child, just big enough to cradle his little fist around a pencil or a crayon, Yifan was typically found drawing. The arts and crafts projects had always been his favorite and art class had always held a special place in his heart. Studying was important, sure; Yifan made sure to set aside enough time for his other classes and assignments, but if there was a free moment, it was almost a guarantee that he could be found with his face buried in his sketchbook. Middle school changed him for the better; his skills slowly began to improve and he began to pick up brushes, dabbling into the world of painting for the first time.

And he immediately fell in love with it.

It came as no surprise that during high school, Yifan signed up for an art class every single year. He still liked to draw, but painting had stolen his heart, and he found himself spending more and more time trying to produce images on stretched pieces of canvas. He knew that his work was good. The best? Definitely not, and he was not ashamed to admit that. It was good to be humble, even when he won awards and recognitions during his teenage years for his art.

He knew, long before he graduated high school, that he wanted art to be a part of his life forever.

College, on the other hand, was sure to be a trickier time than high school was. Yifan knew that for a fact. He hoped it wouldn’t be too hard of an adjustment, but he was aware that his life was about to change. He wasn’t sure of what he what he wanted to do with art just yet, and he knew his parents were pushing for him to be something, per their words, ‘big’, so Yifan didn’t really see an issue with becoming a business major right off the bat. If the curriculum was hard, then he would just need to study harder.

Still, none of that was currently on his mind. On that day, moving into his dorm to start his new life, Yifan’s mind was racing. He hadn’t met his roommate yet, and that made him nervous. There was a shortage on carts and Yifan did not want to waste time, instead relying on upper body strength as he lugged boxes of his belongings down the hall. There was thankfully an elevator, at least. Hefting all of his stuff up six flights of stairs didn’t sound like too great of a time. Still, Yifan felt more than a little troubled as he hobbled down the hall with a box in his arms. His roommate hadn’t moved in yet, so Yifan assumed whoever he was crashing with would come later in the day, or perhaps the next day. Yifan hoped the guy was at least tolerable, at minimum; he had heard lots of horror stories about roommates from hell, and he crossed his fingers that he wouldn’t be stuck in the same boat.

A large part of him regretted not having a cart. Yifan’s breath was coming harder at this point, awkwardly adjusting his grip on the bulky and heavy box of clothes in his arms. Of course, just his luck; his dorm room was on the complete opposite end of the elevator, so he had a long way to go. He knew he wasn’t the strongest guy around; he was tall, but his long limbs were built for support and not power. He could feel his arms trembling, and right then, at the worst possible time, he tripped.

With an unflattering squawk, Yifan went tumbling to the carpeted floor, nearly completely head over heels. The box tumbled from his hands, cartwheeling forward a few feet as Yifan groaned, hauling himself up onto his hands and knees.

He glanced up to survey the damage, and immediately paled in realization, discovering that the flaps of his box had flown open during the fall. And decorating the ugly hallway carpet was an assortment of several pairs of his underwear.

A sudden laugh snapped him back to reality, and Yifan’s face burned red in embarrassment and shame as he noticed another male standing outside in the hall a few doors down from his current spot on the floor.

“That was quite a tumble,” the stranger commented, and Yifan merely nodded, hurriedly climbing to his feet in an attempt of regaining some of his dignity. To his surprise, the boy was suddenly approaching him, curiosity plastered across his face. “Moving in?”

“Yeah,” Yifan admitted, scrambling to collect his discarded pairs of undergarments, praying the stranger hadn’t noticed some of the bolder colors. Maybe he shouldn’t have put his lime green underwear on top after all.

“Oh, that’s cool. You’ll be living in the same hall as me then,” the guy said, suddenly offering Yifan an outstretched hand. “I’m Luhan, by the way.”

Yifan chucked one balled-up pair of underwear into the box so fast it was as if he had been burned. He then turned, accepting the other’s hand into his own large one. “I’m Yifan, but I just go by Kris.”

“Nice to meet you,” Luhan said warmly, tilting his head a little to one side. “You don’t have a cart or anything even though you’re moving in by yourself? I could give you a hand, if you want.”

Tips of his ears still flushed red from his accident with the box, Yifan blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Sure! I wouldn’t mind at all,” Luhan told him, nodding eagerly. “You look like you could use the help anyway.”

Yifan stood there for a moment, processing what Luhan had just said, before he suddenly grinned widely.

* * *

Luhan was a wonderful addition into his life that Yifan welcomed whole-heartedly. Luhan helped him carry his boxes and bins into his dorm room and even lingered behind to help him unpack. They talked about their lives for a while, and Yifan felt peaceful and _happy_ , laughing over some joke Luhan had cracked when the door to his room opened with a click.

That was also when he had met his roommate. Yifan loved Jackson’s hair within the first minute of seeing him; the bleached shade of blond was so different from his own plain black.

Luhan seemed to have a talent for making friends. Yifan could feel that vibe as he tagged along with the rather large group for dinner at the dining hall, lagging behind a little with Jackson at his side. Luhan was leading the pack with a few other boys from their floor, chattering away with one of them. Luhan had told him their names, but Yifan couldn’t remember them all right now, not after being fed introductions for well over fifteen people in one sitting.

He sighed softly through his nose, and it was then that Jackson gave him a puzzled glance.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing is _wrong_ , it’s just…” Yifan raised one hand to vaguely motion to the group of boys walking along in front of them. “I wish I could talk to them.”

Jackson merely raised an eyebrow. “Then go talk to them.”

“I can’t,” Yifan whined, “I don’t know what to say. They’re all way cooler than me anyway…”

“You don’t look like the shy type,” Jackson then commented, “but apparently you are.”

“I’m not shy,” Yifan weakly argued, his lips setting in a hefty pout. He was avoiding Jackson’s gaze by staring down at his sneakers, as if he knew he was lying to himself.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“ _Yes,_ you are,” Jackson repeated. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

Yifan fell silent then.

Jackson just blinked for a moment before he reached over to give his roommate a hefty pat on the back. “Listen, you gotta learn to get out of your shell and get over this shyness thing before the semester ramps up. It’ll make a world of difference for you. I promise.”

* * *

Despite Jackson’s advice, Yifan found it rather difficult to shake off the shell of shyness he was still hiding within. He didn’t talk to very many people, even though deep down, he wanted to; he couldn’t find the proper words and didn’t know what to say in order to start a conversation. Luhan made it all look so easy, his extraverted nature coming in handy and making it rather effortless to chat with strangers and quickly bond with them. For Yifan, however, who was shy and introverted, it was much more like pulling teeth. The semester had been up and running for a couple weeks so far, and the only friends he had were Jackson and Luhan. Sure, every once in a while, he managed to hold a conversation with someone on his hall, or with someone who sat next to him in one of his classes, but the bonding never seemed to increase beyond that.

But he didn’t really mind. Sure, his circle of friends was extremely limited, but it wasn’t like he was totally alone. He dared himself to say that Luhan was his closest friend so far, and Yifan enjoyed his company immensely. They were college students and they were busy quite often for that exact reason, but Yifan really treasured the time he got to spend with Luhan, even if it was just tagging along with Luhan and his group of friends for dinner.

“This girl is an idiot,” Luhan stated, sitting on the bed next to Yifan, eyes glued to the TV sitting atop of the dresser. The two of them were watching a horror movie together, huddled around a massive bowl of popcorn they had cooked in the microwave setup near Jackson’s desk. Luhan frowned, shoving another fistful of popcorn into his mouth. “Way to go dumbass, you’re officially trapped.”

Yifan couldn’t hold in the snort of laughter that bubbled up in his throat. He could handle scary movies fine on his own, but Luhan’s commentary was nice in its own way. It was enough to ease the tension in Yifan’s shoulders and the jump scares weren’t nearly as bad as they would’ve been otherwise.

It was nice.

* * *

_Luhan (7:21 PM)  
Don’t you like hip-hop?_

One thing Yifan had noticed was that even when the two of them couldn’t meet face-to-face, it didn’t stop them from texting each other. It was something so simplistic but it really did make Yifan happy. Maybe it was a little embarrassing to admit, but Yifan didn’t care. It was nice to have someone to talk to.

_Yifan (7:24 PM)  
Yeah, quite a bit! Why?_

_Luhan (7:29 PM)_  
Thought so!  
I heard this and thought you might like it.  
There’s a whole album coming out next month too btw.  
[ LINK ]

Alone in his dorm room, Yifan couldn’t help but grin widely down at his phone.

 _Yifan (7:31 PM)_  
I’ll listen to it now.  
Thanks for thinking of me.

_Luhan (7:36 PM)  
:-)!_

* * *

“Luhan!” Yifan whined, his voice practically a wail as he banged on Luhan’s door. “Luhaaan! Can I borrow your iron again? My shirt is wrinkled!”

The last thing Yifan expected when the door opened was for there to be more than just Luhan on the other side.

“Your wailing sounds like a cat in heat,” Luhan said bluntly as soon as he pried open the door to his room. Yifan was barely paying him any attention though, gazing past Luhan to stare at the other boy sitting casually on Luhan’s bed. “Just be quiet. I’ll get the iron.”

Yifan just nodded dumbly, completely clammed up now that he realized someone else was in the room. The guy was staring at him with an amused grin on his face, seeming entertained by the situation at hand.

“Here,” Luhan then said, walking back into the doorway to hand over his small iron to Yifan. “It’s already set on cotton, but you can change the settings if you need to.”

“Oh, uh,” Yifan then stammered, quickly looking away from the stranger to glance down at the iron. “T-Thanks.”

Luhan’s forehead dimpled with a puzzled frown. He then attempted to follow Yifan’s gaze, swiveling on his heel, before he realized Yifan was staring at the other person in his room. Luhan then turned back to Yifan. “Oh. Kris, have you not met Zhoumi?”

Yifan mutely shook his head, cradling the iron to his chest like a makeshift lifeline.

“Huh, I thought you two would’ve met already. Kris, this is Zhoumi. Zhoumi, this is Kris,” Luhan then continued, motioning to both students with the flick of his wrist. “Zhoumi lives down the hall from us. He’s really nice, and he’s a year above us.”

“Nice to meet you,” Yifan then spluttered, face red as he ducked his head in embarrassment. “I—I have to get going now.”

The two then silently watched Yifan dash down the hall, before Luhan, with a sigh, merely closed the door.

“What’s gotten into him?” Zhoumi then asked, frowning. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Nah. That one just has the social skills of a rock,” Luhan continued with a sigh. “Doesn’t help he’s shy beyond words.”

Zhoumi just laughed. “He’s cute. I’ll have to talk to him sometime.”

* * *

“What’s gotten into you now?” Jackson complained, walking into his dorm room to find Yifan lying face-down on his bed, head buried so deep into his pillow it was a wonder he hadn’t accidentally suffocated himself.

“Why am I so awkward?” Yifan whined into the fabric. His voice was muffled. “Luhan has a cool older student in his room and I didn’t know until I already did something weird.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad, whatever it was that you did,” Jackson continued.

“Yes it waaas,” Yifan complained louder. “How am I supposed to talk to the cool upperclassman when I’ve already embarrassed myself?”

“Just talk to him because he’s a person?” Jackson offered, only to have Yifan start rolling around on his bed instead, pillow still mashed over his face.

“I _can’t_ ,” he whined, “how do I talk to cool older people when I’m weird?”

Jackson merely rolled his eyes and gave up, leaving Yifan alone to wiggle around on his bed. He barely made it to his side of the room when he heard a loud _thunk_ , followed by Yifan’s cry of pain. Realizing Yifan had smacked his head against the wall, Jackson just sighed.

“You’re hopeless.”

* * *

Basketball was one of Yifan’s favorite things. When his schoolwork tired him out and gave him headaches, or when he felt too stressed, it wasn’t uncommon to find Yifan wandering out of the dorm with his old beat-up basketball tucked under his arm, and his backpack slung over his shoulders.

The outdoor basketball court was just outside of his dorm. The gym was across campus, so having an outdoor court so close to him was rather nice. So long as the weather was decent, Yifan had no issues playing outside. It was his relaxation method of choice, enough to get his mind to cool down, and Yifan merely tossed his backpack down along the inside of the chain fence before shooting some baskets in silence, attempting to clear his head.

Sure, school was going pretty well for him so far, but stress was easy to accumulate.

He absently wiped his face off on the sleeve of his baggy t-shirt and turned his attention back onto the basketball hoop. Licking his lips, he took another step backwards, arms raising for a moment so he could make his shot. His lips parted in a satisfied grin as he made it.

He jumped at the loud noise of awe from behind him, however, and Yifan swiveled around on his heel to see where it was coming from. Luhan, along with several of his friends, were huddled together near the fence, arms weighed down by bags of takeout.

“That was a nice shot! You’ll have to teach me how to play sometime,” Luhan called from the other side of the fence, offering Kris a wave with his free hand. “You wanna come eat with us?”

Yifan couldn’t contain his smile as he nodded, hurriedly rushing to fetch his forgotten basketball and bag. For now, everything was fine. Yifan didn’t have a care in the world at that moment as he went tumbling out through the gate, tagging along with Luhan and his group of friends that lived in their dorm. Yifan didn’t know their names but he didn’t bother to ask either, not right then at least.

He didn’t have as many friends as Luhan, but he hadLuhan as his best friend, and for Yifan, that was plenty.

* * *

Luhan was majoring in history, and Yifan, for the time being, was signed on as a business major. Their core classes were different but the two of them had very similar general education classes, as they were both freshmen. It was quite often that Yifan ducked across the hall with his backpack to knock on Luhan’s door to ask him if he wanted to study together. Almost every time, Luhan said yes, and Yifan couldn’t contain the big and happy grin on his face as he scurried into Luhan’s room, or tagged along with him to the library.

“You know something,” Luhan started one day as he and Yifan were sprawled out atop of Luhan’s bed, his blue comforter contrasting against Yifan’s red t-shirt. Yifan perked up from his biology book to give him a puzzled glance. “You sure don’t look like it, but you’re awfully clingy when you want to be.”

Yifan blinked, obviously confused. “I’m not clingy…”

“You’re super clingy. You follow me like a lost puppy quite often, and you’ve had your head leaning on my shoulder for the past hour,” Luhan pointed out, lips curling up in a grin. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing. It’s cute.”

Yifan’s cheeks burned red immediately. “I’m not cute!”

“Yes, you are. You’re extremely cute,” Luhan said bluntly, unable to stop himself from laughing at the flush that decorated Yifan’s cheeks. “Look at yourself, you’re even blushing! You’re the person who gets clingy with people he likes, am I right? Definitely cute. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

Before Yifan could stop himself, he opened his mouth, and blurted out one simple sentence. “But I like guys.”

There was a beat of silence then, and Yifan, with a red face, hurriedly slapped his hands over his mouth, eyes wide to signal he hadn’t meant to let that slip out at all. Luhan merely blinked at him for a second, his own eyes puzzled and calculating before he slowly cocked his head to one side.

“You like guys?” Luhan then echoed, blinking a couple times and watching Yifan hesitantly nod in reply, large hands still covering his mouth. Luhan suddenly grinned a little, eyes twinkling. “It’s funny you’d mention that. I do too.”

Yifan was motionless for a moment, visibly struggling to process what Luhan had just said, before slowly allowing his hands to drop back down onto the mattress. “You… You do?”

“Yeah. So don’t worry, I totally get it. I know coming out of the closet isn’t exactly the easiest thing,” Luhan said casually, shrugging his shoulders. “But just to put this out there now, you’re definitely not my type. So don’t even ask.”

“I—I wasn’t _going_ to!” Yifan nearly shrieked, reaching out to give Luhan a playful shove in the arm. “Don’t flatter yourself!”

Luhan was laughing then. “Oh, come on! How can you possibly resist me? I’m gorgeous!”

Yifan didn’t know how to describe the emotions he was currently feeling. It was a mixture of happiness and embarrassment all at once and he couldn’t stop himself from laughing, even though his face was still painted red.

* * *

Freshman year was smooth sailing for Yifan. He hadn’t managed to come out of his shell any further and therefore hadn’t made any additional friends – only a few acquaintances sprinkled in here and there – but otherwise, there were no issues. He didn’t find his introductory classes very challenging; some studying and dedication was enough to get him by with high marks.

He managed to land a job working on campus, so he stuck around over break. Sure, it wasn’t like he was swimming in money, but it was definitely better than nothing. By the time the semester came to an end, Yifan officially had work, and, to his surprise, a boyfriend. It was sudden and unexpected and came on a hot summer day. But even if it wasn’t something he had been planning, Yifan no complaints.

He felt happy.

* * *

Yifan had high hopes that his second year of college would be just as clean-cut and easy as the first, but he quickly found out that wasn’t the case. He could dream all he wanted, but reality was much more bitter and cold. He was starting to get deeper into his core classes, and although he was good at them, it took much more work and studying to achieve the high marks he wanted. He was much busier than he was his first year and the tiredness he didn’t feel much his first year began to bleed deep into his bones.

He was definitely going to have his work cut out for him. Still, there were positives in his life that he couldn’t ignore. He and his roommate had gotten much closer over the past year, and coming home after a long day and getting to crack jokes with Jackson and forget about the worries and stresses in his life was such a nice thing indeed.

As the first half of the school year uneventfully came to a close, there didn’t seem to be any issues in his life. He had made it through his first half of sophomore year unscathed. His grades were among one of the highest in the business department. Although his circle of friends was still extremely small, he had grown closer to them. He and his boyfriend celebrated their six-month anniversary.

Everything felt okay.

He spent his break working, trying to scrape together some extra cash for tuition and other expenses. And, for the first time in what felt like ages, he began to dip his toes back into the art world. He had to admit, he had been a little reckless, and had forgotten about the craft he loved so much. He didn’t have much time anyway during the semester, too busy drowning in schoolwork and stress, but right then, during his downtime in between work shifts, Yifan could feel the passion trickling back into his veins.

He had missed art so much.

* * *

The sophomore slump tore its talons into him with no mercy after his return from winter break. Yifan didn’t have an exact _reason_ why, but it was as if the start of the next semester just didn’t feel the same. Perhaps it was the weather, leaving him freezing cold in his dorm and not leaving him to want to leave his bed. Or maybe it was the slow revelation he was having over the course of several weeks. After he had gotten back into art over break, he noticed something. He always felt so calm and happy when he was painting or drawing.

And as he sat around in his lectures, he realized he didn’t feel anything like that towards the world of business. Sure, he was good at what he did. His scores were excellent, he understood the concepts, everything was easy-breezy.

But he felt out of place, as if it wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing with his life.

Those thoughts were constant. Yifan began to find himself delving into his art more, just like he used to back in the day. It wasn’t uncommon to find him curled up with his sketchpad in his desk prior to his lectures starting. He doodled in the corners of his notebooks. He could feel art breathing life into him again, and oh, how he had missed it.

Maybe this was what he was meant to do.

Still, Yifan did not jump the gun too soon. He hesitated, and far too much. He was good at business. He knew the doors in the business field opened in different ways than they did in the art world. Him being a business major made his parents happy.

If he listened hard enough, he could still hear their judging voices in the back of his mind.

_“Why on earth are you so interested in art?” his mother asked with a sigh, ever since he was in elementary school, ignoring his excited smiles as he showed off his creations. “Yifan, you should really try to find another hobby. Find something that offers more substance.”_

_“I’m so glad you decided to major in something worthwhile,” his father commented during his visit over winter break. “Business is such a good choice for you. It’ll actually help you get a good job and put food on the table.”_

_“I’ve never heard truer words,” his mother agreed. “Really, Yifan, it’s so nice that you’ve finally outgrown that art nonsense. There’s few things in this world more worthless than an art degree.”_

It still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

* * *

Life became a sharp slope downward that semester. His internal conflict over what he should do with his major intensified as the months passed. He continued to work on his art during his free time, producing work that he placed into his slowly growing portfolio. He craved more. He wanted to go somewhere further with his hobby, but he wasn’t sure _what_ he wanted do.

Then again, there were other worries on his mind that somewhat stole his focus away from that issues at hand regardless. Yifan wasn’t sure why, but it was becoming rather difficult to get in contact with Luhan lately. It was taking him longer to reply to texts, and Yifan didn’t see him around as much in the dorms as he used to. He tried not to pay it any mind though. They were college students, and everyone was busy.

Still, it did hurt that he wasn’t able to get in contact with Luhan when he needed him right then.

Yifan was fragile at that moment. His eyes were puffy and red and threatening to spill tears, and as he trudged down the hall of his dorm, he was barely able to keep himself pieced together. He had texted Luhan a few times, with no reply, and Yifan had given up for the day on trying to talk to him about what was happening.

He had never been a particularly lucky person, and the universe seemed to prove it then. Yifan had barely gotten around the corner of the hallway when he heard a door opening. He flicked his eyes upwards for just a moment to see Zhoumi emerging from his room with his bag. Despite his shy nature, Yifan had spoken to Zhoumi a couple times since they had first met. Well, it was more of Zhoumi talking to _him_ , but Yifan had slowly grown more comfortable over time being near him.

Apparently he looked as bad as he felt, because Zhoumi’s face immediately fell with concern.

“Hey,” he started, and Yifan lowered his gaze, hands gripping the straps of his backpack. “Why the long face? Did something happen?”

Yifan opened his mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. All that he managed to choke through his teeth was a pathetic whimpering noise. He felt the wetness of tears dripping down his cheeks, and he struggled to hold himself together.

“Whoa, whoa! Here, let’s get you to your room, okay?” Zhoumi said quickly, grabbing Yifan by the arm to help guide him to his own dorm room. “I have to leave for an exam in just a second, but let’s get you calmed down first, okay?”

He and Zhoumi weren’t extremely close, and they didn’t talk often, but Yifan always appreciated him. Zhoumi led him to his room and managed to calm him down, and with profuse apologies, left Yifan alone. Yifan didn’t mind. The efforts to help meant more than anything.

He heard from Luhan eventually, _hours_ later after Yifan finally felt like he was getting over his emotional tsunami. Luhan tried to feed him excuses, and Yifan didn’t really care, thankful he at least now had someone to talk to. Yifan didn’t comment on the way Luhan had ignored his texts, but seemed concerned when Zhoumi texted him to talk about how Yifan had started crying in front of him. He wanted to call Luhan out on it, but he didn’t, instead finding refuge in Luhan’s shoulder as he sobbed. He had been tossed away, in the ruins of cheating brought about by his boyfriend.

He never knew being single could hurt so much.

* * *

Luhan was getting distant. Yifan didn’t know what he had done wrong, and it was as if no matter where he turned to for answers, he could never find any. He and Luhan used to be joined together at the hip. But now, Yifan barely heard anything from him. Over the course of the spring semester of his sophomore year, Yifan could feel Luhan slipping away from him. He was trying not to panic. He told himself that there was nothing to worry about, that Luhan was busy, that they were still as close as ever.

He was lying to himself the entire time.

Yifan tried his hardest to keep up the contact with Luhan. He drove himself crazy wondering what he had done to make Luhan treat him this way. And when he looked back on it, Yifan could now see the signs paved into the road. After all, his texts were going unanswered more and more often lately. Luhan’s replies were getting shorter. They didn’t hang out like they used to. There was still that incident where Yifan had been an emotional wreck after his breakup, and he hadn’t been able to get in contact with Luhan no matter what he had done. If it wasn’t for Zhoumi, he knew he would’ve been left to shoulder all the damage on his own.

Perhaps it wouldn’t sting so much if he knew that Luhan was treating _everyone_ this way, but the matter was, he wasn’t. Yifan sent him texts to ask if he wanted to hang out; they often went with no reply and when there was one, Luhan shot him down, saying he was busy. Yifan offered for them to study together or to have a meal together, and it was the same process. Time and time again, over and over and _over_ , week after week. Yifan could slowly feel the urge to try communicating with Luhan fading. Why was he wasting so much energy on trying to keep up their friendship when Luhan wanted nothing to do with him?

And really, it hurt his feelings. Yifan doubted himself often about the matter, wondering if he had done something wrong. He couldn’t think of anything, but it didn’t stop Luhan from treating him the way he was. And it hurt, it _really_ hurt, to be tossed aside by the person you cared about so deeply. It hurt even more to be thrown away when Luhan was still keeping in contact with plenty of other people. Yifan saw him on campus countless times. When he trudged into the library alone to study, he sometimes saw Luhan sitting with other guys to study instead. When he went to the dining hall in the evenings alone, when Jackson had his night class, Yifan typically saw Luhan sitting with other people then too, laughing without a care in the world. When Luhan said he was busy, it wasn’t uncommon for Yifan to hear commotion from Luhan’s room during the evenings, as everyone watched sports games together or played games or had parties.

It left an awful whirlwind in his head. He was trying so hard to keep in contact with Luhan, and Luhan apparently wanted nothing to do with him, but _why?_ What had he done wrong? Why didn’t Luhan want him anymore? How could they have been best friends and now become _this_?

He couldn’t watch the same movies anymore. He couldn’t listen to certain tracks in his music library anymore. He couldn’t go to certain places on campus anymore. They all reminded him too much of Luhan and it made him sick to his stomach.

There was one Saturday that showed him the truth. The weather had been quite wonderful as spring finally began to arrive in full force. Yifan had taken the opportunity to play basketball outside. He had texted Luhan before he went out, not expecting a reply. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when his offer of Luhan coming to play basketball with him was answered with acceptance. Yifan hadn’t felt that happy in quite a while, practically sprinting out of his bedroom to get ready.

And when he went out to the basketball court, he waited.

He shot some baskets by himself, trying not to check the time on his phone every five minutes. The spring sun was warm on the back of his neck and Yifan stuck around, keeping himself entertained as he lingered. Luhan had mentioned he’d come down to play in thirty minutes, and as time dwindled away, Yifan tried to feed himself excuses. He was running late. He had lost track of time.

Two and a half hours later, Yifan gave up, reality backhanding him across the face as he gathered his belongings and stepped off the basketball court to go back into the dorm.

He had been abandoned.

* * *

He was unhappy.

Yifan knew that. He didn’t really know what to do to fix it though. His second year of college had been rough. He felt stuck in a rut, to put it lightly. A cheating boyfriend, a bad breakup, a loss of direction, and a previous best friend that had officially faded from his life. He had stopped trying to talk to Luhan after what had happened. Luhan wasn’t trying to talk to him either, no texts or calls or visits, and perhaps now, Yifan could call the friendship demolished entirely. There was nothing left.

He felt stuck. He wasn’t sure of what to do anymore. Aside from the loss of his friend and his crumbled relationship, Yifan was still facing the inner turmoil about how to approach his major. He loved art, but the thought of switching majors halfway through his college career did scare him.

But as the weeks passed and the semester began to dwindle away, and he found no improvements in any aspect of his life, Yifan knew there needed to be a change somewhere.

With a tender seed of hope inside of his heart, he submitted his portfolio.

* * *

Yifan already knew his third year was going to be hardest, before it even began. He broke the news to his parents over the break from school, and although he hadn’t been expecting for it to go well, it went much more harshly than he had thought. It had been weeks and the memory still made him ache. He knew his family hated the arts, but he hadn’t been ready for them to sink their claws into his flesh like they had. Worthless. Jobless. Talentless. It was as if someone had struck him across the face and Yifan’s heart had been heavy when he packed his bags to head back to campus, a mixture of hurt yet numb when he clambered onto his motorcycle, still able to hear them snarling for him to not bother coming home next break.

He wanted things to be different this time. Sure, he was still a college student, and he was still Yifan, but he wanted his life to change this year. He was tired of feeling stuck and as if he was trapped following some path he didn’t actually want.

But it was so much harder than he had expected for it to be. Sure, Yifan hadn’t been anticipating for the switch of his major to be easy, but he hadn’t been prepared for it to be this difficult either. His portfolio had been accepted, and Yifan had eagerly switched majors. Those in his classes had said he was crazy for changing things up when he ‘already had it made’ as a business major, but Yifan didn’t listen. He needed to follow his heart.

Though following his heart was proving to be much more brutal than he ever dreamed.

It was nearly all introductory classes for him that first semester of his junior year, and Yifan could already feel the talons of his classmates and professors ripping into his skin. Yifan knew he was not the best artist out there, but he always thought he had talent. Apparently he had been mistaken. Over the course of the semester, Yifan was slowly ripped apart. His classmates didn’t take him seriously. Their critiques on his works were harsh, but not nearly as brutal as those brought on by his professors. Their words chipped deep into his pride and his ego and the confidence Yifan had built over the years began to shatter. He viewed himself in a much harsher light than he used to, staring at his drawings and paintings with a mixture of disappointment and disgust, wondering why he wasn’t more skilled like the other kids in his lectures. His previous GPA began to slip once grades came in, and Yifan watched it tumble, spending sleepless nights slaving away over his art in a hope that maybe the next piece would be enough to impress his professors, but nothing seemed to work. The hole he was digging grew deeper and deeper and Yifan couldn’t claw his way out, losing touch with himself as he began to barricade himself in his room more often than ever, tired eyes and aching joints as he painted and drew until the entire world grew silent with sleep.

He wanted to prove himself, and he wasn’t going to stop until he did.

* * *

None of his pants fit.

The realization came a handful of months later after his switch of majors and on a Thursday morning as he tried to get ready for his classes. Jackson had left already for his early lecture and Yifan stood alone in their shared bedroom, staring at his reflection in the full-length mirror hung upon their closet door. He looked tired. He _felt_ tired, his body craving sleep that it just wasn’t getting, but Yifan ignored the dark circles beneath his eyes to instead stare at his waist. Every single pair of jeans he owned were too big. He had noticed that they were getting baggier on him, but he hadn’t paid it much mind, brushing the issue aside at the mental thought of his weight changing due to stress.

Then again, he hadn’t had much of an appetite anymore, now that he thought about it.

He settled for a pair of sweats and tied the drawstring into the tightest bow he could to keep them up, pushing the problem aside as usual to focus on his class as he gathered his belongings.

The only mental note he made for himself was to buy new jeans on Saturday.

* * *

Yifan had overall been a healthy person, for as long as he could remember. Lately he felt queasy, nonstop, all the time. His appetite had practically vanished and even when Jackson tried to coax him out of his room to go to dinner, Yifan shrugged him off, hunching down and over his desk to continue chipping away at his art. The lack of appetite from stress usually left him not eating much at all and the scale in the bathroom was practically screaming at him that he was still losing weight, but Yifan didn’t worry over it.

He was tired. He stayed up far too late every single night, his alarm clock reading two, three, sometimes four AM as he crawled into bed before becoming dead to the world, only to wake up a few hours later to start over. His weekends blurred together. Saturdays were wasted entirely as Yifan slept until three in the afternoon every time without fail, too exhausted to get up any earlier. He was practically living off of the boxes of cereal he was hoarding and not much else, despite Jackson’s worried lectures that he needed to take care of himself better.

He was fine, he told himself, day after day, failing to properly acknowledge the warning signs that surrounded him.

* * *

He felt sick.

The journey from the dining hall felt much too long. Yifan’s footsteps were slow and heavy as he walked alongside Zhoumi, the two of them heading back to the dorm. Jackson had tagged along, just the three of them, and Yifan had quickly rejected the notion for Luhan to join them. He had no reason to speak to Luhan anymore, and the others thankfully did not argue with him. Jackson had branched off from their group to attend his night class, leaving him alone with Zhoumi. The sidewalk felt so awfully hard under his feet and the buildings all seemed like they were moving, swaying gently back and forth.

His stomach hurt. He was utterly nauseated, even though he had eaten, and the meal hadn’t been too heavy. And he felt so _drained_ , more so than he had in weeks. It felt like his body was suddenly shutting itself down and even though Zhoumi was talking to him, Yifan couldn’t zone in long enough to listen, let alone manage to formulate a proper response.

* * *

The elevator ride was quiet.

Yifan’s eyelids felt so heavy. His vision was playing tricks on him, flickering and decorated with odd shapes. The silver-colored door before him looked as if it was swaying, slowly, back and forth. He blinked once, twice, held his eyes shut tightly for a second before blearily letting them open up again.

“Kris,” a soft voice said from beside him, and Yifan tensed briefly, feeling a hand settle upon his upper back in questioning. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look well.”

“Mm,” Yifan hummed, low in the back of his throat. His backpack felt as if it weighed a ton. His shoulders were hunched inward. There were spots trailing through his vision. He blinked again, a little rougher. A bead of sweat ran down the back of his neck. “I’m fine, Zhoumi.”

“Are you sure?” the older student asked him, hand still lingering on Yifan’s shoulder. “Kris, I really think you need to go get checked out. I’ve never seen you this pale.”

“’M sure,” Yifan mumbled. His speech was slurring. The silver door of the elevator slowly rocked back and forth. There was a ringing in his ears. “It’s okay.”

The door slid open with a _ding_ , and Yifan, shoulders sagging under the mental weight, went to step out, one black sneaker making contact with ugly colored carpet.

And with his eyes rolling back in his head, he hit the floor.

* * *

“Kris?! Kris!” “I think he’s out cold—“ “Kris, can you hear me? Kris!” “He passed out, I don’t think he can hear you.” “Then what should we do?”

The group of boys who had been in the elevator all turned their attention to Zhoumi as the upperclassman suddenly extracted his phone from the depths of his pocket.

“What are you doing?” one of them asked, biting his lip in worry.

Zhoumi didn’t reply, but there was a worried glaze in his eye as he typed in three little numbers before he held the phone up to his ear.

* * *

His mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton, and he couldn’t speak, nothing coming out of him aside from a low moan. His vision was swimming. He felt sick to his stomach and through his muffled hearing he could hear the wail of a siren. An array of faces he didn’t recognize all hovered over him. He could’ve sworn they were speaking to him, judging by their moving mouths, but Yifan couldn’t understand. His mind was reeling in endless circles and everything was swaying, blurring together as if the world around him was melting.

The world went dark yet again.

* * *

Luhan was not in a good mood in the slightest. He had been up nearly all night cramming for an exam, for starters, and now, just before dinner time, he had been woken up from a peaceful nap by the sound of screaming in the hallway. Luhan had merely rolled over initially, intending on going back to sleep, but when it only continued, well over half an hour later, Luhan grumpily heaved himself out of bed and stomped into the corridor of the dorm.

It wasn’t the first time a large group of guys had congregated in the hallway. Luhan thought nothing of it, initially ready to dismiss it as the freshmen guys being rowdy again. Zhoumi’s presence, however, made that mental process come to a screeching halt. He knew the senior was constantly busy, and it wasn’t often that Luhan saw him around in the dorms anymore. Obviously it wasn’t just a bunch of freshmen acting chaotic if Zhoumi was involved. So what was the issue?

“What’s going on?” Luhan then asked, not bothering to close the door to his room as he approached the swarm of guys. Zhoumi, in the middle of speaking to the RA assigned to their floor of the dorm, turned to look at him when Luhan spoke. Luhan rubbed one eye sleepily, lips unhappily twisting to one side as he came to a stop beside the older student. “I hope it’s something to write home about, considering how loud you guys have been.”

“Are you serious?” Zhoumi gave him a look of pure disbelief then. “Did you just sleep through everything that happened?”

That wasn’t a good sign at all. Luhan hesitated, and for much too long, watching Zhoumi’s eyebrows pinch together in disapproval.

“Kris passed out and we couldn’t wake him up. I had to call him an ambulance,” Zhoumi then said tersely, and it felt as if a bucket of ice cold water had suddenly been dumped over Luhan’s head. “They just got done loading him up a few minutes ago; took him down on a stretcher.”

The world felt as if it had stopped turning. Luhan didn’t give Zhoumi a chance to say anything else. With panic bleeding into his veins, Luhan spun around on his heel and dashed into his room in search of his keys.

* * *

He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Yifan in person. That thought was on Luhan’s mind as he sat in the waiting area, picking at the skin around his fingernails out of anxiety. Now that he mulled over it, Luhan couldn’t even remember the last time he had spoken to Yifan, whether it be in person, or via text. When had things become that way? They used to have such happy memories together and spent so much time in each other’s company, and now it was as if Yifan had dropped off the face of the earth. Yifan hadn’t texted him in _ages_ , and it was even longer since he had come knocking on Luhan’s door to spend time with him.

And now that he thought back, Luhan couldn’t remember the last time he had bothered to text Yifan to ask how he was doing.

He could feel the guilt abruptly sprouting in his stomach as that realization struck him. They were best friends, weren’t they? He should’ve tried harder to keep in contact with Yifan. He had literally no idea what was happening in Yifan’s life at this point, and apparently, it was nothing good, if Yifan was in the hospital.

When visitors were finally allowed into Yifan’s room, Luhan hesitated for what felt like forever. He had no idea what he was going to say. What _could_ he say? He was concerned, sure, but where had he been all this time leading up to this moment? He hadn’t cared enough to see the signs before the situation grew this bad, and he knew it. Still, despite the guilt and shame, Luhan stood up, and made his way to the door.

* * *

The rejection had been unexpected. It was cold and harsh and Luhan, sitting in the waiting area, felt oddly numb as he stared down at his hands. He had tried to visit Yifan, but it had not gone according to plan in the slightest.

He could hear voices coming from Yifan’s room. He couldn’t put a label on his emotions; it was as if his heart was suddenly full of a mixture of hurt and jealousy and regret. After all, Zhoumi and Jackson had come to visit, and were still in Yifan’s room. The two were talking with no issue, and Yifan hadn’t told Zhoumi or Jackson to get out, like he had done to Luhan.

Was this real? It felt almost like a dream, a nightmare that Luhan was struggling to wake up from, stranded and stuck with no way to find the exit. Upon entering Yifan’s room, something dawned on him, and that was that at first, he thought he had the wrong location.

He hadn’t been able to recognize Yifan.

It was at that moment that Luhan realized just how badly he had taken things for granted. It was too late, and no matter how much he regretted it, he couldn’t go back and change a thing. It had been so long since he had seen his friend that he hadn’t been able to recognize him. Even Yifan’s voice, nothing more than a weak croak at that moment, sounded unfamiliar to him.

_The first thing Luhan noticed when he entered the small room was that the body lying on the bed was thin. Tall, but grossly slender, obvious from even beneath the thin sheets. Coupled with the sight of a ghostly white face, Luhan halted beside the bed, panicking for a moment as he began to wonder if he was in the right room or not._

_“I’m sorry,” Luhan quickly blurted, taking a step backwards as he began to plan his escape. “I think I have the wrong—“_

_The person’s head then turned slowly to one side, and their eyes met. The world seemed to stop turning for a second and the air around him was completely and utterly silent, and for that moment, Luhan couldn’t speak, vocal cords failing him as he merely stared at the person on the bed._

_“…_ Kris _?” Luhan then deadpanned, uncertainty and disbelief lining his voice. “Is that—Is that you?”_

_Yifan didn’t look anything like the person he knew. His height was still the same, sure, and other features remained intact; the same plump lips, the same nose, the same thick eyebrows. But otherwise, it was as if Luhan was staring into the face of a man he had never met. He had never seen Yifan so thin before. Ever since the first day they had met, Yifan always had rather pudgy cheeks, despite his rather angled face, but even those were gone. This Yifan was—He was practically a shell of himself. Luhan could hear the sound of his pulse echoing away inside his eardrums as the two of them merely stared at each other for a long moment. Yifan’s eyes were glazed almost completely over, hooded and tired. His face was just as thin as the rest of him, and his skin was the unhealthiest Luhan had ever seen it, pale and sickly. It made the dark circles under Yifan’s eyes look even more obvious, pitch black and ground deep into his flesh. He had cut his hair. There was barely anything left of it, just a smidge longer than that of fuzz. The staff had him on an IV, dripping slowly into his skin through the clear tubing._

_Yifan didn’t seem fazed by his presence, merely staring at him for a moment before speaking in a hoarse voice. “What do you want?”_

_He hadn’t been expecting that answer, and it was obvious by the surprise that showed on his face. Luhan swallowed. “I came to check on you. I heard you passed out in the dorm. I got worried.”_

_Yifan only blinked before turning his head away in dismissal. “I’m fine. Please leave.”_

_“Kris, you’re in the_ hospital. _You aren’t fine,” Luhan tried to argue, only for Yifan’s head to swivel around to give him a dark, unreadable look._

_“I said I’m fine,” Yifan repeated, voice ice cold and unforgiving. “Now get out.”_

He could hear Zhoumi and Jackson talking in the other room, and Yifan’s voice was too soft to hear. Luhan remained in the waiting area, struggling to wrap his mind around what was happening. And after several minutes, with a heart full of guilt and regret, Luhan stood up, and made his way towards the exit.

* * *

“I told you that you weren’t taking care of yourself properly,” Jackson commented, scrubbing his palm across the surface of his forehead, as he always tended to do when he was stressed. “You had me worried _sick._ Do you have any idea how freaked out I was, getting a text saying you were in the hospital?”

“Sorry,” Yifan mumbled, voice quiet and worn out. He was still stretched out on his back in his cot. “I’ll be more careful.”

“I sure hope so. You hitting this point even once is bad enough,” Jackson said with a sigh, turning his head to look at Zhoumi. “Thanks for watching over him.”

“Of course! I know I’m not around in the dorms much these days since I’m graduating soon, and we don’t talk a whole lot, but I do care about you guys,” Zhoumi replied, glancing down at Yifan then. “How are you feeling now? Any better?”

“Tired,” Yifan muttered, reaching up with his free hand to rub at one eye. “Really, really tired.”

“Well, that’s not very surprising. You heard what the doctor said, didn’t you? You’re extremely sleep deprived and your blood sugar was insanely low earlier since you’ve barely been eating. The only thing you need to be worrying about right now is food and sleep,” Zhoumi said with a huff. “You’re in starvation mode at this point, and the fact you’ve lost nearly thirty pounds this semester isn’t helping matters either.”

“You sound like a worried mom,” Jackson pointed out jokingly, trying to lighten the mood a little as he turned to Zhoumi. “C’mon, I think he gets the point. Let’s let him sleep. Kris, we’ll swing by later, alright?”

“Okay,” Yifan mumbled. The pillow underneath his head felt so comforting and his body right then was so heavy and weak.

“Eat whatever they give you and make sure you rest. We’ll be back,” Zhoumi told him, reaching out with one hand to give Yifan’s exposed arm a gentle pat. “If anyone else tries to come see you while we’re gone, just tell them that you need some space. I’m sure Luhan and some other guys from our floor will be by later; they all looked really worried, especially Luhan.”

“Luhan was here already,” Yifan said softly, starting to fall asleep. “I told him to leave.”

The other two men blinked in surprise at that, exchanging a puzzled glance for a moment before glancing back down at Yifan, who now had his eyes closed. They both looked ready to speak, to ask about what had happened, but it was too late. Yifan was already fast asleep, puffy eyes closed and bordered with dark circles.

They didn’t want to wake Yifan, and it was then, after a lingering glance, they left.

* * *

Teaching himself self-care was not easy. It was honestly one of the hardest things Yifan had ever done, aside from telling his parents he was changing his major. The steps were slow, but he would get there, one wobbly footstep at a time. It was at that time that Yifan was extremely thankful for his support system. It was small, but extremely strong. Zhoumi was the one to pick him up from the hospital so he wouldn’t have to worry about getting back to campus in one piece. Busy as always, it didn’t surprise Yifan any that the older student wasn’t around a whole lot, but told Yifan that if he needed _anything_ , to let him know. And Yifan, deep down, was sure he meant it.

He was extremely thankful to have a pleasant relationship with his roommate during that time. The road was a bumpy one, but Yifan was sure it would be even more turbulent without Jackson helping him. He had arrived back to the dorm to find Jackson absent. Yifan knew he had class, so he wasn’t surprised, but the box sitting on his desk _did_ come as quite a shock. His heart was swollen in his chest when he read the tag adorned to the outside of the cardboard box.

 _‘Kris,_  
I know it isn’t much, but I do hope this helps, even just a little. Sorry I couldn’t tag along to pick you up; I’ll make it up to you though. Dinner’s on me tonight, okay? Eat something out of your gift box (is that a thing? Well, it is now) and get some sleep.  
\- Jackson ☆’

He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that his roommate had assembled a get-well package for him. Yifan had rummaged through the box out of sheer curiosity and could feel his chest aching every time he found something new. It was nearly all nutrient-dense foods; Yifan combed through the packets of oatmeal, bananas, containers of nuts, and granola bars in sheer disbelief. He even found a couple bars of his favorite brand of chocolate tucked aside, and it surprised him, that his roommate remembered something so little about him.

He didn’t know what was coming over him at first. Yifan pulled down one of their bowls from the shelf in the closet before he started making himself some oatmeal in the microwave the two of them shared. As he watched the numbers on the timer tick closer to zero, he felt a lump swelling up in his throat, and before he even managed to pry the microwave open when it beeped, he was crying.

He may have lost his closest friend over the months, and things may have been hard, but it was a comfort to know that he was still loved so much.

* * *

Yifan could feel Luhan trying to repair their friendship, but Yifan just couldn’t bring himself to care. Perhaps it was childish to hold onto such negativity, but Yifan was indeed the type to carry a grudge. It wasn’t like Luhan had apologized either. And for Yifan, who already had enough on his plate, the last thing he wanted to worry about was Luhan. Sure, he wanted to believe that Luhan was starting to realize that he had been taken for granted, but Yifan just couldn’t find it within himself to trust the other male like he used to. He rejected Luhan’s offerings of hanging out like they used to, occupying his time with other matters. A large portion of Luhan’s texts went unanswered, and the ones he bothered replying to were a couple words at the maximum.

The friendship was cracked and although Luhan tried to carry on as if nothing had even happened, Yifan didn’t feel the same.

* * *

He’d never admit it to anyone who hadn’t seen it happen, but he cried when Zhoumi graduated. Sometimes, it was a fact that his mind liked to forget, that Zhoumi was a year older than him. Yifan was sad to see him go, but he knew it was for the best. Zhoumi had worked immensely hard and it was only fair for him to move on to bigger and better things.

That year had been one of the rockiest years of Yifan’s life. Switching majors had not been an easy task for him. The drama surrounding his change had been intense and extensive, and even as the school year drew to a close, Yifan was still struggling to overcome the hand he had been dealt.

But he believed in himself.

He had changed a lot over the past three years. He could remember his first year of college; shy, reclusive, uncertain. It had taken an immense amount of courage for him to finally accept what his heart wanted and to strive for that dream. He had always loved art, and even though he was still struggling, he knew, deep down, that being an artist was what he wanted to do.

Even when the year drew to a close and Yifan attended Zhoumi’s graduation ceremony, he was still struggling, but at least then, he had hope. There was still stress. There was still doubt. There was still exhaustion. His body still felt horribly weak and although he had managed to gain back some weight and hunker down for some much-needed rest, he was still a college student. In a perfect world, he would have no sleepless nights, he would remember to eat properly, he wouldn’t be stressed. But it was not a perfect world, and all he could do was try to improve himself, one step at a time.

“You know something,” Zhoumi commented, taking a step backwards so that he could peel himself off of Yifan. The pair had just been enveloped in a big hug moments prior. Yifan, puzzled, merely blinked at the older boy, quizzically tilting his head to one side in silent questioning as his fingers remained twisted into the fabric of Zhoumi’s graduation gown. Zhoumi offered him a smile. “I’m really proud of you.”

Yifan’s cheeks turned a bit pink in embarrassment. “What do you mean? This is _your_ graduation, not mine!”

“I know, I know. It’s not that. It’s… Well… I mean, I guess it’s _tied_ to that? It’s hard to explain. I’m graduating, sure, and all I can think of is how different things are now compared to when I first started school here. And one of the things I remember from back in the day was when I first met you. It was my second year and your first and you were so _different_ back then,” Zhoumi explained. “You were so indecisive and shy and reclusive and it felt like ages before I bumped into you and got to actually talk to you face-to-face and one-on-one like an actual human being. The you from back then was so different from the you I’m talking to right now. You’ve challenged yourself a lot in three years and you’ve started to finally admit to yourself that you deserve better and _want_ better for yourself. And you’re working hard for what you want and what you believe in. And for that, I’m extremely proud of you.”

Yifan, red-faced, turned his head away. “Don’t say things like that; you’re gonna make me cry.”

“Don’t cry, Kris. If you cry, then I’m gonna cry.” Zhoumi merely laughed and reached out to wrap him back up in another big, warm hug. “I want you to promise me something, okay? I know you still have another year to go before you graduate. Promise me you’ll work your hardest to follow your heart.”

“Promise,” Yifan echoed, nodding a little in acceptance.

“Good,” Zhoumi praised, patting him on the back. “You only have one life, Kris. Do what your heart wants. Don’t leave behind any regrets.”

“Right,” Yifan said, his voice practically a croak as he strained not to cry, although he was smiling. “No regrets.”

He would make sure of it.

* * *

Completing his final year of college was supposed to feel like a victory. It was the slow path of opportunities and opening doors. For Yifan, however, he felt as if the road was getting narrower. Sure, he wanted to follow his heart, but something did not feel quite right. He didn’t really feel _happy_ after his graduation. He felt more lost than anything, uncertain of his own choices, debating on where to go next in life. He knew he wanted to be an artist, but he did not know where to go from where he was currently. He felt trapped already and things were just beginning.

The lack of support wasn’t really helping matters either. His early college days were filled with him being too shy to properly socialize to gain stable networks and connections. Sure, he had changed since then, but his altered self wasn’t perfect either. Yifan had noticed it easily enough, but he didn’t see the changes as issues that needed to be repaired. He had become less shy, but his lack of socializing hadn’t improved much. He grew a thicker backbone slowly but surely, but trying to form bonds and friendships became something he slowly gave up on; he didn’t put in effort to make friends or to talk to people. He was too caught up in his own troubles and worries to worry about letting anyone else into the chaos. He had bigger things to worry about than trying to make friends.

It was therefore no surprise to him that, after graduating, he had no one.

He knew it was a product of his own creation, but it left a foul taste in his mouth anyway. If he thought back on the feeling, he knew he had been lonely for quite a while. Years now, perhaps. Sure, he had grown close to Zhoumi his junior year, and he had been close to Jackson too, especially the further they progressed in their college careers. But now that school was over, Yifan sensed the bond between the three of them getting weaker. All three of them were busy. The texts were becoming less frequent. The conversations were getting shorter. Yifan could feel it fading and he just couldn’t bring himself to pull the strings any more tautly in an attempt of making it all hold together.

Maybe if things were different, he and Luhan would still be as close as they were in the beginning. That was a thought that plagued Yifan’s mind quite often. Even after the incident at the hospital, Luhan didn’t give up on him, even though Yifan wished he would. It wasn’t like their friendship – could he call it a friendship? – was the same as it used to be when they were teenagers. Many days, Yifan wondered why Luhan still even bothered to try to keep in contact with him. It wasn’t like Yifan put in the effort to make him stay. The texts Luhan sent him were answered by simple short replies, usually only a couple words. Yifan had rejected Luhan’s offers of hanging out multiple times. Even on the day of their graduation, Yifan stayed far away from the person he used to label as his best friend.

Perhaps it was petty, but Yifan could not let go of the emotions nor the memories that were engraved into his brain that now made him feel so apathetically about the one he used to treasure so much.

He had more important things to worry about regardless. Yifan sighed, pushing the thoughts into the back of his mind as he hopped off his motorcycle. The apartment building loomed over him, complete with its chipped paint. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start, considering he had nowhere else to go.

The small moving truck with his couple of boxes of belongings would arrive soon. Yifan grabbed his backpack and stood up. It still hurt, knowing he had been thrown away, discarded like a piece of garbage into the nearest bin. It left a constant _what if_ in the back of his mind; what if he had continued to be a business major? Perhaps then his parents wouldn’t have chucked him aside like this and he’d still be able to talk to them, perhaps he’d still be able to label their home as his home too, perhaps he wouldn’t feel the way he did right then as he headed for the leasing office, but there was no going back.

* * *

He wanted to be an artist. It was what he fell in love with at a young age. It was what he chased after during his school days. It was what he had fought tooth and nail over for a degree, hung in a black frame over his desk in his apartment. The path felt too small and yet, Yifan knew, deep down, he wanted to be an artist.

As an undergraduate, Yifan obtained a bachelor’s in studio art. He had a portfolio. He bled upon his papers to produce more art that he felt was actually worth talking about. His portfolio grew slowly but surely, as he poured time and effort into his creations during his lunch breaks and at night when he stumbled in his front door from shifts of retail and volunteering at art museums.

It was all worth it when he found an acceptance letter tucked away within the four corners of his mailbox.

* * *

Yifan didn’t find himself much different during his graduate days compared to how he was his final years as an undergraduate student. He knew, deep inside, that he should work harder, to try to meet new people, to gain connections, to try to make friends again, but he just couldn’t find it in him anymore to _try._ More often than not, he felt like he didn’t quite _click_ with people, just like how he felt during his younger years. It wasn’t like he had much time anyway, though. He often felt like he was drowning. Caught between work hours, his lectures, working on his thesis, and trying to improve his portfolio, Yifan often felt like he could barely breathe. He clung onto the hopes that it would all be worth it in the end.

He didn’t find himself very different from how he used to be, but apparently, he gave off a different aura than he used to. He tried not to let the surprise show on his face when he heard the whispers of others in his lectures, the curious and shy eyes glancing at him. Every now and again, he was faced with a rather awkward and bumbling confession by a classmate, asking him out on a date. Yifan, coupled with his hidden shock and rather atrocious social skills, clumsily shot them down every time. He had no time for dating, and he wasn’t attracted to anyone who ever asked him. The last time he had dated anyone was his teenage years, and it had ended in complete and utter disaster. Part of him blamed the lack of time. The other part of him still, deep down, didn’t trust anyone enough to give out his heart again so easily.

He still, all the years later, didn’t trust Luhan like he used to. Despite his internal hopes that Luhan would give up and move on, he didn’t. Even though there had never been an official apology between either of them, and their friendship had been unstable for _years_ , Luhan didn’t drop contact. Perhaps it had been a mistake of his own doing; maybe if he had stopped answering Luhan’s texts ages ago, there would no longer be any contact between the two of them. But it was too late for that now, and Yifan tried not to pay it any mind. He had run into Luhan a couple times since the undergraduate days. Luhan was in graduate school as well, chipping away at the history field, and Yifan felt absolutely nothing inside of his heart when Luhan told him.

He didn’t care.

It was like pulling teeth, but he slowly began to make something of himself in graduate school. A well-developed thesis, a lengthy résumé, experience as a teaching assistant for an undergraduate art class. That had been fun, in a warped sort of way. Sure, it gave him experience, which was nice, but seeing so many teenagers and barely-twenty-somethings get wide-eyed over him and whisper excitedly to their friends with pink cheeks wasn’t a bad thing either.

His reward for all his hard work came in the form of his master’s degree, hung in another black frame right beside his bachelor’s. Master of fine arts in art practices, it read, and Yifan, a little puzzled, stared at the line of black letters for many nights, wondering what to do with himself.

What to do now?

* * *

Yifan did not become a professor solely because he wanted to teach. In fact, when he thought back on it, Yifan wasn’t sure if he had _ever_ wanted to be a teacher. He wanted to be an artist. It had never crossed his mind that he would someday be a professor, but there he was, standing numbly in his own office for the first time wondering what on earth to do with himself. Snagging the job, surprisingly enough, hadn’t been very challenging for him. He knew his material. He filled in for a professor and taught a lecture all by himself with two staff members sitting in the back to watch and judge him, and although his jokes were of self-deprecating nature, Yifan felt satisfied anyway when they laughed.

He wanted to be an artist, but he also wanted to help spread art and the knowledge of it around any way he could. Sure, he could paint and draw all he wanted. But it felt different, teaching someone else about art. He knew he wouldn’t make a difference to everyone, but maybe, just maybe, if he could make a difference to even one person, if he could make even one student see the beauty in art that they hadn’t seen before, if they left his lecture with new knowledge, if they came to appreciate art, if they wanted more art in their life, then hey, that was good enough for him.

But… Things didn’t always go as planned.

It was frustrating enough to learn that Luhan was teaching at the same university as him. It was almost as if the universe was somehow trying to punish him but not letting him escape from the man he had met back during his teenage years. If the constant lack of distance between them was some type of sign, then Yifan ignored it. He wanted nothing to do with Luhan, not anymore.

And apparently, his students wanted nothing to do with him. Yifan had entered the university with such high hopes. He was lenient. He tried his best to be nice. But it was as if no matter what he did, he never got through to anyone. He taught introductory classes. He was always met with bored eyes and uninterested faces. He never managed to make a difference with any of them, and it felt like his biggest failure of all time, not being able to accomplish the one thing he told himself he’d do once he got the job.

The time began to pass, and Yifan, stuck in his old habits of social isolation and overworking himself, stopped caring.

* * *

Yifan had changed a lot since his tender age of eighteen as a college freshman. He was sure that if he ever came face-to-face with the _him_ of the past, he wouldn’t be able to recognize the person there. He used to be so shy, so quiet, so indecisive, so unsure of himself. That part of him was long gone, tossed away and burned, and when he compared himself to the _him_ of eighteen, Yifan wondered what had happened. Luhan loved to call him out on his behavior, and Yifan never wanted to agree with him, because after all, it wasn’t like Luhan had been around very much to witness the alterations of his personality. Yifan brushed them away. He had simply aged, matured, and people changed. He was no exception.

He knew he wasn’t the same as he used to be at eighteen, but he didn’t think about it very much, filling his time and his head with other matters. He had grown apathetic about his job. Life had turned gray. He felt like was stalled out on some highway where no one could see him. The only time he really felt anything was when he seated himself at his desk or on his stool to paint or draw and let the love of his craft trickle back down into his veins.

What was he even doing anymore?

* * *

The accident was a hefty nail in his coffin.

Yifan knew the only person at fault was the person who struck him. Luhan did not cause the accident, nor did his students, but Yifan lashed out at them all anyway. The years of apathy and negative emotions he had kept forced beneath the surface came out then, mingled in with physical pain and emotional hurt. Yifan’s walls grew taller and he encased himself in his fortress, licking his wounds in solitude. It was enough that he found no happiness in his job, that he had no friends, that he was apathetic about his life. It was plenty to bear that weight on his shoulders and look himself in the mirror every morning, wondering where he had gone wrong, but the accident was another shot blown into his heart that he couldn’t quite handle. The medical bills from his injuries. The physical pain from the wreck. The anxiety he initially felt when he began to ride again. And, of course, the mocking words that spread across campus. The cards he had already been dealt were enough to handle on their own, but that, _that_ was too much to swallow. He was a human being and although he was numb majority of the time, it struck him like lightning, and Yifan sealed up the cracks of his cage to keep himself in and everyone else out.

He felt like he was wasting his life away already. He had no joy in his job. He wondered if he had made a wrong decision. And right then, the world seemed to be feeding it to him, the statement that he was nothing more than a waste of space.

Yifan never wanted to die, but more days than he could count, he wanted to just stop existing.

It seemed like when there was nothing left, when the path was so small and tight and narrow that it was forcing him off the outer edges and over the edge of cliffs, Junmyeon stepped into his life.

And the world that had years ago turned monochrome, somehow, began to fill with color again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: "is that jackson from got7" yes, yes it is. Anyway!! Sorry I kept you all waiting for so long! Things have been rather difficult here; a lot of stress, burnout, illness, so this had to sit on the backburner for a while, unfortunately. I'm really hoping the next update won't take as long to churn out as this one did. Thanks to all of you for sticking around ♡ It's been a while since I've replied to comments, but I'll get to those really soon!


	28. Prime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ PRIME ]_
> 
> _to prepare a surface for painting by covering it with primer, or an undercoat_

Junmyeon had no idea that nights could possibly be so long.

It would definitely be a day that Junmyeon would never forget. The atmosphere around him had changed with nightfall, and Junmyeon couldn’t help but nervously swallow. There was too much on his mind and, anxiety getting the best of him, he shifted and squirmed pathetically in the uncomfortable chair, struggling fruitlessly to find a favorable position.

From beside him came the sound of rustling fabric, followed by the soft sound of Yifan’s voice. “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” Junmyeon confessed, sighing as he gave up, and merely sank back down into his seat. “Too much in my head right now for me to sleep.”

“Tell me about it,” Yifan softly agreed, merely sighing and turning his attention onto the ceiling.

They had never left the hospital.

The day itself had been a disaster, filled with too many questions and not enough answers. Junmyeon could still easily remember how Yifan erupted into tears while waiting for word about his x-ray. It broke his heart, seeing him in such a state, and it worried him even more to not receive any form of explanation for it. He had been hopeful that Yifan would elaborate, but by the time the nurse returned, walking back into the room to find Yifan sobbing in his wheelchair, he was quick to try to pull himself back together. Even when he was injured and emotionally a total wreck, he had too much pride. With an assortment of unflattering hiccups and incoherent mumbles as he tried to brush off concerns, Yifan continued to try to paint himself as someone who was doing fine. He acted as if nothing was wrong, wiping his wet eyes on his sleeve and mopping at his runny nose with some crumpled tissues.

For the moment, Junmyeon decided to let it go, but it was his goal to pry out answers before the day ended.

The x-ray was bad enough of a start. Junmyeon was the one to offer an outstretched hand to accept Yifan’s necklace that he had been wearing, knowing he would need to take it off regardless once they wheeled him into the room. The collection of red scratches that were etched into his skin were visible, peeking out from the collar of his shirt, and Junmyeon couldn’t stop his face from turning red. The technician was going to see those marks, and Junmyeon was certain that the staff had managed to figure out their relationship status by now. With the red marks on Yifan’s body, and the edges of hickeys protruding from the neckline of Junmyeon’s sweater, it was rather obvious.

He could tell that Yifan was frightened before he went into the room. His normally stoic face was pale and his eyes were glazed over with fear. Junmyeon sat quietly in the waiting area with Luhan at his side. Neither of them spoke, and all Junmyeon could do was stare at the small sign fitted next to the closed door, lit up as Yifan remained inside the room.

By the time Yifan came out, his face was ashen white, as if he had seen a ghost.

And right then, Junmyeon knew something was horribly wrong.

The initial x-ray was just the tip of the iceberg, and although Junmyeon was afraid, he knew that Yifan must have been terrified. He could easily remember Yifan objecting multiple times whenever Junmyeon had proposed for him to see a doctor for his symptoms. Yifan always shot him down immediately, and Junmyeon had already known there was way more to the story than Yifan merely not wanting to go. And right then, seeing the petrified look on Yifan’s face and those glassy eyes, Junmyeon quickly understood that fear had, all along, been a major contributor to Yifan’s objections. And he knew that Yifan not being allowed to leave the hospital to go home scared him even more.

The way Yifan _begged_ for Junmyeon not to leave him alone overnight spoke volumes.

The world outside had grown quieter with nightfall, broken only by the muffled hum of moving cars from a nearby street and the mixture of voices and sounds inside the hospital’s four walls as the staff continued their work.

Junmyeon sighed and sat up in his seat, knowing perfectly well by now that rest was not going to come for the night. Yifan, beside him, sighed softly through his nose as he remained lying on his cot. Even now, hours later, he was twisting a handful of the sheets around anxiously through large fingers.

“You’re going to be okay,” Junmyeon murmured, breaking the silence that had fallen inside the small room. He was thankful that the other cot in the room was, for now, missing a patient. He didn’t want to disturb anyone. It was just the two of them for the moment, and Junmyeon could comfort his boyfriend without worrying about awakening a roommate. Still, Yifan continued to wring the sheets in nervous hands. “Yifan, I mean it; you’re going to be fine.”

Yifan didn’t respond, and Junmyeon merely bit his lip worriedly as he reached out to place a comforting hand on top of Yifan’s own.

It was an obvious question, but Junmyeon asked it anyway. “Are you scared?”

“Terrified,” Yifan mumbled, not bothering to try to lie or play the game of avoidance.

Junmyeon squeezed Yifan’s hand a little tighter. “is that why you were so upset earlier?”

Yifan wouldn’t make eye contact with him, gaze locked onto the bedsheets. “It’s complicated.”

“I have all night,” Junmyeon calmly argued, voice soft and level.

Yifan hesitated, and for much too long. Junmyeon could see the reluctance plastered across his face, obviously not wanting to share, still working on sloughing away his old habits of keeping all his problems to himself. But stuck in a hospital room, with his boyfriend at his side, clutching his hand tightly, Yifan’s walls slowly began to crumble.

“It’s not that I’m scared of doctors or hospital, or—Or whatever else,” Yifan muttered. “I’m just—I’m more scared of what they’re going to tell me. I was overwhelmed earlier, okay? It was just too much at once.”

“What do you mean?” Junmyeon frowned a little, obviously not following entirely. When Yifan opened his mouth to respond, Junmyeon was quick to interrupt him. “The _entire_ story this time.”

“Where do you want me to start?” Yifan asked, stalling.

“From the beginning,” Junmyeon replied, still not releasing his grip on Yifan’s hand. “At least from the beginning of this story. I can tell it’s a long one.”

Yifan huffed unhappily, though he didn’t argue. His long legs shifted uncomfortably on the stiff cot.

“I’ve been struggling long before I met you,” Yifan admitted at last. “It’s just one thing after another. It’s always been that way. I’ve… Okay, being honest with myself, I’ve been avoidant. I’ve never had many friends or good coping skills, so… It’s just been a cycle of keeping everything to myself…for years now. And hearing that I hurt myself… I just got really overwhelmed.

“I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense to you, because a good majority of what’s happened occurred before we met. Things _used_ to be okay, but things change, you know? I was your age when it all started going downhill, and I’ve tried so _hard,_ I’ve worked my ass off trying to keep myself and my life together, and it’s still just one thing after another no matter what I do.”

Frustration painted itself across Yifan’s face, restless fingers of his free hand scraping at the plain white sheets.

“It was just a bit of a breaking point. Like… My ex-boyfriend cheated on me, so I focused on friendships instead. My friendship with Luhan fell apart, so I figured I wouldn’t worry too much about it and just continue to focus on school instead. And I did, but then there was the drama with my folks, which I’ve told you about… I tried harder, both for me and to try to prove them wrong, but I just couldn’t win. I wasn’t good enough for my peers or my professors, and I thought that it’d be worth it once I graduated, so I kept my eyes on that.

“And it was just the same series of events. I thought it’d be worth it if I made it to where I am today. Instead I’m just some guy who never made a difference to a single person I ever taught, and it makes me feel like _shit_ , because that was the one thing that kept me going for so long. I couldn’t cut it as an artist, and I told myself when I became a professor, that all I wanted to do was to make a difference. And I couldn’t even get that right. I can’t catch a break. I tried to just take it with a grain of salt, and then someone comes along and hits me with their car and nearly kills me.

“And then it was just—Just a new clusterfuck of problems. I tried not to think about it. I didn’t want to. I went back to work, I pushed myself to go to the art show in hopes that my one measly stupid dream of making it as an artist would come true. It hasn’t, and I’m a fucking idiot for thinking it ever would. I’m nobody.”

Junmyeon could hear Yifan’s voice shaking.

“But it was all that kept me going, and then the problems started. My body started falling apart. Common sense said to see a doctor, but I’ve—I’ve always been too afraid to go to one. I want to stay ignorant. I never wanted to know what was happening to my body, because what if it’s too much to be fixed? I’d rather not know than for a doctor to tell me how fucked over I am and that no one can save me or that I’ll have some detrimental qualities for the rest of my life. I’m enough of a fuck-up already; do you have any idea of how hard of a pill that would be to swallow? Knowing you haven’t accomplished a single goddamn thing, that maybe the kids who say you _should_ have died after that wreck have a valid point, that no matter what you do or say, it won’t make a single bit of difference, because it’s too late?”

Yifan’s voice cracked, and for the second time that day, Junmyeon watched his boyfriend collapse in on himself, sobbing uncontrollably and bowing his head in shame.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he cried, and Junmyeon’s heart was breaking, watching Yifan cry, listening to his mixture of hiccups and hate-filled words. “I should’ve just stayed a business major. It doesn’t even m-matter anymore, you heard what the doctor said. Way to go, you dumbass, you need surgery because of what happened and you can’t go home because you’re at risk for paralysis—”

He had hit his breaking point, and Yifan just couldn’t _stop_ , his face dyeing red and turning blotchy from crying. He was nearly choking on his own sobs, and Junmyeon let him cry it out, unsure of what else he _could_ do besides letting the storm blow over entirely. He knew Yifan’s heart was broken, but right then, so was Junmyeon’s, hardly able to bear the weight of watching the one he loved suffer so deeply.

When the tears began to slow and the liquid on his cheeks started to dry up at long last, Junmyeon squeezed Yifan’s hand tightly and edged closer in his chair beside the bed.

“Yifan… Listen to me. You’re too hard on yourself, _far_ too hard on yourself. There’s no reason for you to be saying these things. Life doesn’t always follow our game plan, and that’s okay. It doesn’t knock down your worth and it doesn’t mean you should tear into yourself over it. You’re a good artist, and I mean that. Art makes you happy, right? Then there’s no shame and no harm in doing it, because it makes you happy.” Junmyeon pursed his lips, eyes bright with concern. “You may not have done all that you have wished for, but you’ve still made huge accomplishments. I mean, Yifan, you say you’ve never been able to make a difference to your students, but think about all you’ve done for me. You helped me realize that I shouldn’t drop your class or quit school, and that on its own is already something incredible.

“And I understand that your physical problems make you upset, but these changes your body has been undergoing is just a part of who you are now. Is it fair that the wreck damaged your body and nearly snuffed out your life? No, of course not, but whether it’s fair or not, it doesn’t change the fact that your body _needs_ help now. A surgery isn’t the end of the world. It’s scary, and I know it is, but just think…once it’s over, you’re going to be a whole new man.”

“You don’t know that,” Yifan weakly argued, sniveling as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Well, maybe I don’t know everything. I’m not a doctor, or a surgeon, or a nurse, or whatever else,” Junmyeon rambled, shaking his head lightly to accompany his words. “But, even so, I do know that getting treatment for your back can’t possibly be a bad thing. You’ve been in a lot of pain for a long time, Yifan. They’re here to help you. You’re going to be okay.”

Sniffling, Yifan lowered his arm and proceeded to sigh. It sounded like an attempt of a deep breath, but his lungs didn’t want to cooperate yet, after he had just cried his eyes out.

“Just because I’m having surgery, it doesn’t mean it’s going to fix me,” Yifan weakly argued. “And it might—It could end badly.”

Junmyeon frowned, his thumb drawing aimless little patterns on the back of Yifan’s hand. It was all slowly beginning to make sense now. Yifan’s fears, of multiple aspects, were all congregating together at this point. He couldn’t help but call back the memories from earlier that evening.

 _“Don’t leave me here,” Yifan babbled, voice thick and absolutely_ terrified. _Junmyeon was worried; Yifan sounded like he was on the brink of a complete panic attack. His face was pale, eyes teary and glazed over as he laid there on his cot. “_ Please _, Junmyeon, I can’t—I can’t stay here by myself, I—”_

He had sounded so small and pitiful then, lying on the bed and literally _begging_ Junmyeon not to leave him alone in the hospital overnight. Junmyeon had caved almost immediately, partially out of worry, partially out of pity. It was a blessing that the staff allowed him to stay.

“You make it sound like you’re going to die during surgery,” Junmyeon commented.

“I might,” Yifan quietly argued.

“No, you won’t. You’re going to be fine,” Junmyeon replied, coupled with a soft sigh. “Just try to relax. You need to get some rest.”

There was a beat of silence, and Junmyeon thought that maybe Yifan had given up and had decided to try to sleep. Of course, he was mistaken.

“I told you that I’m too nervous to sleep,” Yifan mumbled. He shifted his weight around a bit. He was currently bedridden, and Junmyeon knew it was driving him crazy. “And this bed sucks.”

“Wanna trade?” Junmyeon asked dryly, adjusting his legs in an attempt of getting comfortable in the hard chair next to Yifan’s bed. He wasn’t successful. “You can have this chair and I’ll gladly take your bed.”

“If I was in a chair I wouldn’t be stuck lying on my fucked up back,” Yifan said with a sigh, “so it’s tempting, but no, I think I’ll stay here.”

“I thought so,” Junmyeon muttered. He was tired, but he was in the same boat as Yifan right then, too worried to catch a wink of sleep. Unable to fight his curiosity regarding the current time, he reached for his phone, which he had left on the nightstand. He squinted against the blue light emitting from the screen when he took the device off standby. “Jeez.”

“That late?” Yifan asked, head lolling sideways so he could see Junmyeon better.

“Two A.M., so yeah, I’d say so,” Junmyeon mumbled. He yawned, covering his mouth with one hand as he scrolled through his phone with the other. There were a few social media notifications, which he didn’t bother checking right then, since he had no signal inside Yifan’s room. He did, however, open up his messages, noticing that he had some texts that had come through earlier that he had yet to read.

 _Sehun (4:17 PM)_  
Hey, are you okay?  
I haven’t heard from you  
I’m guessing you’re still with Kris?

 _Sehun (4:20 PM)_  
Idk if you’ve had a chance to check email,  
but we have classes again on Wednesday

 _Sehun (4:22 PM)_  
Just text me back when you get a chance  
Just wanna make sure you’re okay  
But no rush, I know you’re probably very “busy”  
;-) ;-) ;-)

Well, that was a mess. Junmyeon fought the urge to groan in embarrassment, closing out of the chat as fast as he could. _That_ was the last thing on his mind right now. He went to check his other messages then, seeing that his notifications hadn’t cleared yet.

Even though they had exchanged phone numbers earlier that day, he was a little surprised to find the next series of texts.

 _Luhan (9:37 PM)_  
Hey Junmyeon, it’s Luhan.  
I know we didn’t get a chance to talk  
today for obvious reasons, but…

 _Luhan (9:39 PM)_  
First, I just wanted to say thanks.  
For looking after Kris, I mean.  
He’d probably be in a lot worse shape right  
now if you hadn’t been around earlier.

 _Luhan (9:42 PM)_  
I can’t really do much to help him anymore  
since he doesn’t want to talk to me or  
let me in enough to try to help him,  
so it’s good that he has someone around like you.

 _Luhan (9:46 PM)_  
I’ll come back by first thing in the morning.  
Just keep an eye on him for now.  
I know he’s in a hospital and all that  
but he’s stubborn as hell.  
I wouldn’t put it past him to try to  
sneak out of bed when you and the staff  
have their backs turned for a few minutes.

“Who was it?” Yifan asked, noticing that Junmyeon still hadn’t put down his phone yet. “Something important?”

“Well, one set was from my roommate,” Junmyeon said, a thoughtful expression on his face as he closed out of his messages entirely. “The others were from Luhan.”

“Oh,” was all Yifan said, his voice showing clear disinterest at this point. “And?”

“Not much, I guess. He sounds really worried about you,” Junmyeon replied, setting his phone back onto the nightstand. “He just wants me to keep an eye on you and he said he’s coming back tomorrow.”

“Oh, _boy_ ,” Yifan drawled, sarcasm dripping from his words. “I can’t wait.”

From the time they had first started dating, Yifan never had anything positive to say about Luhan whenever the man came up in conversation. Junmyeon never said much about it. He had seen how Yifan and Luhan acted around each other, heard how they spoke to one another, and witnessed how they could nearly rip each other’s throats out while they argued. However, Junmyeon, right then, was not in the mood for it. He was sleep-deprived, worried, frustrated, and extremely grumpy. And although it was a rare occurrence, Junmyeon actually snapped back for once.

“Why are you acting like this? He’s done so _much_ for you over the past twenty-four hours,” Junmyeon said coldly. “The least you could do is act a _little_ thankful.”

It wasn’t very often Junmyeon launched into an argument or challenged Yifan on anything, and it was obvious that Yifan hadn’t seen it coming, judging from the surprise that spread across his face immediately after Junmyeon spoke. It was only temporary, however, and Yifan’s expression then proceeded to darken.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Yifan growled out, eyes narrowing.

“You wouldn’t have even gotten here in one piece if it wasn’t for Luhan. You didn’t even tell him thank you for bringing you here. He was kind enough to help you out, and now he’s going to take time out of schedule and life to come see you,” Junmyeon continued through nearly gritted teeth. “He’s worried as hell about you and is pulling a _lot_ of strings just for your sake, and you don’t even seem to care.”

“He only does things like this when it’s convenient for him,” Yifan snapped, obviously growing defensive now in response to Junmyeon’s comments. “Why are you suddenly turning all of this around on me?!”

“I’m not turning anything around on anyone! I’m bringing this up because I’ve bit my tongue for ages after listening to you talk crap about him behind his back and watch you treat him badly!” Junmyeon argued, his own voice rising in frustration. “I’m bringing it up because I’m mad! It’s so frustrating to hear you say these things and watch you act like this when he obviously just wants to help you!”

“He doesn’t care!” Yifan shouted back at him, “he’s never fucking cared, Junmyeon! I’ve always been just some placeholder until he found someone better!”

Junmyeon was quiet for a moment, absorbing what Yifan had just said. It at last clicked, and realization lit up Junmyeon’s eyes, his face darkening.

“ _That’s_ what all this is about? Just you being bitter and holding onto an old grudge? Yifan, people _change._ I’m sure you’ve changed a lot since the day you two first met, right? Did you ever just _tell_ him how he made you feel, instead of just bottling all this up and being passive-aggressive towards him for over ten years?” Junmyeon asked, sounding horribly frustrated and exasperated. “If he didn’t care about you, he would’ve cut you out of his life a _long_ time ago. He does try to talk to you and hang out with you and all you do is give him the cold shoulder!”

“I don’t _have_ to give him another chance after everything he’s done, Junmyeon!” Yifan snapped, beginning to lose his temper.

“Fine, if you don’t want to give him another chance, then stop using him! You’ve become the exact thing you hated the most in him back then, Yifan! You talk to him only when it’s convenient for you or if you need something! You’re using him,” Junmyeon said coldly, “he doesn’t exist to do favors for you or help you out when you’re in a bind, only for you to toss him back into the trash. Even now, just listening to you talk about him like this makes me _sick._ He’s only trying to help you and all you can do is sit here and talk about him like that?”

“And why are _you_ sitting here talking as if you know everything about this situation?” Yifan challenged, trying and failing to sit up, his body too injured and far too weak at the moment to move.

“You know what, you’re right, I don’t know everything about the situation! But there’s something I do know: you’re being immensely selfish,” Junmyeon snarled, voice ice cold as he suddenly stood up. “And I didn’t fall in love with someone so self-centered.”

Junmyeon, too angry to reply to Yifan’s snippy questions of where he was going, exited the room, letting his interrogation fall on deaf ears. He had to cool off before their argument got any worse. He exhaled, and dragged his fingers through his bangs. He had some spare change in his pocket; maybe he could go buy a water from the vending machine.

Either way, he had to get out of that room for now, because Yifan’s passive-aggressive behavior was driving him absolutely crazy.

* * *

Morning came eventually, and Junmyeon was still in a rather foul mood. He hadn’t slept at all the night prior, instead finding solitude in a chair and tinkering around on his phone, playing games that didn’t need internet. Other than his feelings keeping him up, the nurses popping in to check on Yifan would’ve woken him up regardless. He wasn’t sure of how Yifan had slept; he hadn’t bothered asking. He was still frustrated with his boyfriend and was giving him a bit of a cold shoulder, seeing that Yifan wasn’t showing any remorse for his behavior, nor offering any apologies.

Still, Junmyeon loved him. Yifan was far from perfect, just like everyone else, and Junmyeon loved him anyway. They hadn’t spoken at all after their fight last night; Junmyeon had come back with two bottles of water and had, though with an attitude, left one on the nightstand for Yifan, and kept the other for himself, before parking himself back into his chair. Yifan wouldn’t look at him, but when Junmyeon stole glances at him to see if Yifan had fallen asleep, he could see a strange swirling of frustration and guilt in his eyes. He looked as if he wanted to say something, like something was weighing on his mind, but he kept quiet. And so did Junmyeon, not bothering to speak up to ask if he was okay.

But it didn’t change the fact that Junmyeon was in love with him, so when dawn came, and he was pulled from his sleepy-deprived fog by the sound of Yifan’s breath suddenly coming in rough, frustrated puffs, he was quick to glance up from his phone.

Needless to say, he was awfully frustrated when he looked up to find Yifan struggling to roll over in bed.

“What’re you doing?” Junmyeon asked flatly, speaking for the first time since their fight. “You know you aren’t supposed to be moving around like that with an injured back.”

Yifan ignored him. He was still trying – though failing horribly – to flip over onto his side, but he couldn’t do it. Junmyeon sighed softly at his boyfriend’s stubbornness, standing up and moving closer to the bed to press a hand down on Yifan’s shoulder to hold him in place.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity in his heart when he noticed the frustrated tears that were struggling to prick the corners of Yifan’s eyes.

“Hey,” Junmyeon started, as Yifan was pointedly trying to ignore his presence, refusing to look at Junmyeon right then. “Yifan, look at me. I’m trying to talk to you—”

“I don’t _want_ to talk to you,” Yifan cried, his voice strained and so horribly irritated. Junmyeon nearly took it to heart, that was, until Yifan kept talking. And it was then Junmyeon understood the frustrations weren’t directed at him, but rather, Yifan was angry with _himself._ “I just want to go to sleep but I _can’t_ because I can’t sleep like this but I can’t roll over and I’m hungry but I’m not allowed to eat anything and I’ve had to pee for the past hour and I can’t even roll over by myself so how the _hell_ am I gonna get up and go to the bathroom by myself—”

His voice cracked, and Yifan gave up, pathetically letting his body sink back down onto the bed, flat of his back. He still wouldn’t look at Junmyeon, eyes drifted off to the side as one hand twisted the sheets around helplessly, restlessly. His bedridden state was clearly driving him over the edge at this point.

“Yifan… You’re in the hospital for a reason. The staff are here to help you. You just have to let them,” Junmyeon said quietly. “And you’ll be able to eat later after they work on your back.”

Yifan did his best to shrug Junmyeon’s hand off of him then. Junmyeon got the hint, releasing his grip once he realized that Yifan wasn’t going to wiggle around anymore.

Instead of answering directly, Yifan avoided the topic, running around in a completely different circle as he at last stole a glance at Junmyeon. “Why are you even still here? I know you’re pissed off at me.”

“I am mad at you, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m worried and that I care about you. I’m not going to leave you here. You should know that by now,” Junmyeon murmured. He pursed his lips unhappily. “And don’t change the topic on me here. If you need help, you have to tell someone. No one here can read minds.”

“I don’t _want_ help,” Yifan muttered, and Junmyeon, right then, could have sworn he saw a glimpse of what Yifan used to be. Just a scared little boy inside a frame way too big for him, trying to carry all of the world’s problems on his own broad but bony shoulders. “I just—I just want to eat and sleep and go home and be okay.”

“Asking for help doesn’t make you weak, Yifan. I know that’s what you’re thinking,” Junmyeon started, voice soft and a little heartbroken, able to see how Yifan was crumbling in on himself even more the longer he stayed in the hospital wing. “And I don’t know how long you’ve been telling yourself that, but it isn’t true. You’ll be okay, but you have to ask for help if you want to make it there in one piece.”

Yifan didn’t reply, and Junmyeon sighed.

“You don’t need to crush yourself by trying to shoulder it all by yourself. You have people here that want to help you and care about you.” Against his best judgment, he reached out to gently thread his fingers through Yifan’s hair in an attempt of comforting him. Yifan sniffed quietly, bloodshot and puffy eyes closing for a moment as he took it in. “You just have to trust them.”

* * *

Yifan’s health was worse than Junmyeon originally thought. He quietly sat alongside Yifan that morning, ignoring the grumbling of Yifan’s stomach as he listened to what the doctor had to say. Since Yifan had been wheeled into the emergency room the day before, he had undergone a lot of tests, and none of them held very positive results. After x-rays, a CT scan, and an MRI, everything seemed to finally be coming together, but not in a good way.

The details of Yifan’s were discussed more deeply that morning, and Junmyeon sat by quietly and listened intently as well, nervous as to what the staff had to say.

_“At this point in time, your spine is very unstable,” the doctor explained. “And overall, the health of your back is extremely poor.”_

Of course, with past trauma in Yifan’s life from the motorcycle accident, it was uncertain as to how much was contributed to the crash, and how much could be chalked up as related to his more recent falls, especially the harsh one on his apartment stairs.

 _“I don’t think there are many more options for you at this point_ but _surgery. You’ve mentioned that medications stopped working against your pain and that home treatment options have failed. As I mentioned, your spine is in a very rough spot, so it’s not a large surprise that these methods are not working for you. Your problems are just too severe for those things anymore.” As they listened, Junmyeon squeezed Yifan’s hand, feeling it shake violently in his grip with sheer fear. “A few of your vertebrae have shifted out of normal alignment, which may be contributing greatly to your symptoms, such as the pain and numbness in your legs. Two of your discs are degenerating, and after that fall of yours, you have some pretty nasty fractures in your lumbar region.”_

_There was no color left in Yifan’s face, ashen white and decorated with a cold sweat._

_“With your history, there’s a variety of reasons that you wound up in this position. I’m sure your crash was a catalyst for all of this. I know you had multiple injuries back then, and although you had no obvious breaks or fractures in your back, it doesn’t mean something didn’t go by unnoticed, because you only had an x-ray for your spinal region. There are endless possibilities for what could have happened to your back during that time. Regardless, as you mentioned, things began to go downhill after that, which is understandable. The human body is never exactly the same after something so high-impact and violent.”_

_The world around Yifan suddenly felt as if it was falling apart._

_“What we’re aiming for with you is what we call a spinal fusion surgery. What you have in your back is known as a compression fracture, which can be healed through a spinal fusion. The procedure can also help correct deformities and remove both pain and pressure in the spine. For you, as you also have issues with a couple discs, this surgery can also be very beneficial for your disc issue as well,” the man explained to him slowly. “As we mentioned yesterday, you’ll be put to sleep for the surgery, so there’s nothing to worry about for you on that aspect. The surgery will help stabilize your spine and stop the abnormal movement, which will in turn help your pain. The spine will not be fused during the surgery itself, but we will set up your spine in the proper conditions for it to fuse on its own. We’ll insert some hardware into your back to hold the vertebrae in the proper position, and titanium screws and rods will be inserted into the backs of the bones. You also have some spinal nerves being pinched and are at risk for issues with your spinal cord, so that will be another portion of your surgery; if we need to remove material to ensure your nerves and such have enough room, we will.”_

Yifan had been alone with Junmyeon after the explanation to mull it over, and he had nearly backed out, completely panicking as he turned to Junmyeon. There must have been another method, he had babbled, shaking and pale and feeling like he was going to throw up because the mere thought of going under the knife _terrified_ him.

And Junmyeon, as usual, was his saving grace.

_“I know it scares you,” Junmyeon murmured, holding Yifan’s hand, “but this is something that needs to be done now, and there’s no way around it.”_

It was reality now.

Luhan kept his promise, although he came too late. It was midmorning when he arrived, and he found Junmyeon huddled in the waiting area, fidgeting and squirming in his seat.

_“You’re too late,” Junmyeon murmured, too anxious to remember how to properly greet someone right then. How could be not be nervous when his boyfriend was in surgery? “They already took him back; he’s been back there about twenty minutes so far.”_

_“Oh,” was all Luhan said, slowly sitting down in a chair next to Junmyeon. Junmyeon bit his lip, debating on whether or not he should tell Luhan what had happened earlier. He almost did, recalling how Yifan looked at him with nervous eyes before he was called in for his procedure, asking if Luhan had arrived yet, and looking disappointed when Junmyeon told him no. But he didn’t say anything about it, deciding it was not his story to tell. Luhan sighed softly from beside him, clasping his hands in his lap. “Well, I’m sure he’s going to be fine.”_

Junmyeon, however, wasn’t so sure anymore.

Yifan had been in the operating room for over seven hours, and Junmyeon was starting to get nervous.

“Junmyeon,” Luhan said, voice worried but low. Junmyeon barely registered the weight of Luhan’s hand resting against his back. “You need to relax.”

Junmyeon winced, not having realized he had been wildly tapping his foot and biting his thumbnail out of anxiety. He put his hand down then, digging his fingernails into the fabric of his jeans to try to keep his hands busy.

“I’m trying,” Junmyeon mumbled. He was doing his best. Luhan had brought him a snack earlier and Junmyeon hadn’t even touched it, too anxious to eat. The orange remained unpeeled and alone in Luhan’s bag. “I’m just… God, I’m so nervous. He’s been in there for ages now. What if something happened?”

“He has a bad back and a lot of problems with it; surgery is going to take a long time for him,” Luhan said softly. “You need to calm down. Panicking isn’t going to help. I’m sure he’s fine.”

Junmyeon nodded numbly, not quite listening anymore. In an attempt of distracting himself, he tried to think about the future. He knew back surgery had a long recovery time, and he couldn’t help but wonder what on earth they were going to do. Was Yifan even going to be able to get up the stairs to go to his apartment? How was he going to function, when he would barely be able to walk at first and wouldn’t be allowed to lift things or bend over? He’d need help, and lots of it, and Junmyeon could only wonder if Yifan was at last going to swallow his pride enough to let others finally _help_ him.

_“I love you,” Junmyeon murmured, kissing Yifan’s cheek, uncaring that people could see. He was being taken back for his procedure now, his name just called. Yifan’s face was pale and sweaty and his eyes were wild with fear. Junmyeon smiled gently, squeezing Yifan’s hands tightly for a moment to try to comfort him. “You’re going to be okay. They’re going to take good care of you, I promise. And once it’s done, you’re going to be a whole new man.”_

_“Promise?” Yifan asked, his hands literally shaking in Junmyeon’s own, his voice trembling with overwhelmed terror. “_ Promise _me?”_

_“I promise. I mean it with all my heart,” Junmyeon repeated, slowly releasing his grip on Yifan’s hands. “And I meant it with all my heart when I said I love you. I’ll be waiting for you, okay?”_

Luhan nudged him then, stirring him from his thoughts. Junmyeon instinctively checked his watch. It had been seven hours, forty-three minutes, and thirteen seconds. Luhan nudged him again, harder, trying to snag his attention, and it worked. Junmyeon glanced up.

And the light stationed just outside the door to show a surgery in progress was suddenly switched off.


	29. Panorama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ PANORAMA ]  
>  an unbroken view on an entire surrounding area_

_“The surgery was successful. He’s been moved into recovery right now,” the nurse explained, and Junmyeon’s hands were trembling with nerves, anxious to see his boyfriend again. “Once he’s a bit more conscious, we’re going to move him to his room; he’s still trying to come off of his anesthesia right now, but you are more than welcome to pop in to see him.”_

As soon as he was given the all clear, Junmyeon followed the nurse’s guidance, and he and Luhan headed into the recovery area to check on Yifan. Although the surgery had gone well, and Yifan was transitioning into a stage of healing, Junmyeon’s heart squeezed with pity and worry anyway when he caught sight of Yifan again. He was lying on his back in his bed, the upper portion elevated to help him stay propped up, and he looked downright awful. Aside from his paled skin and messy hair, Yifan right then was an assemblage of tubes and drips. The staff had him on a nasal cannula, and they had unclasped his gown to give the tubing more space, trailing down from his face and around his ears before it was taped gently to his shoulder to prevent it from moving. He was on multiple IVs, dug into the backs of his hands, his forearms decorated with medical tape.

“Yifan?” Junmyeon then said, his voice soft and shaky with concern. He came to a halt beside the bed, Luhan at his side. Yifan’s eyes, only partially open and glazed over, blinked groggily at him, his head lolling lazily sideways. Junmyeon worriedly bit his lip, unable to stop himself from reaching out with one hand to gently card his fingers through Yifan’s hair. As he did so, he spoke again, keeping his voice low in hope that he wouldn’t startle his boyfriend. “Hey, sleepyhead, how are you feeling?”

Yifan blinked at him again, slow and out of it, as if he was struggling to understand. He finally spoke up, his voice raspy and exhausted. “Hurts…”

It was to be expected. He had just undergone a major surgery, and the nurses had already told Junmyeon that Yifan was going to be in extreme pain for the next few days while his body began to heal.

“I’m sure the pain will stop soon enough,” Junmyeon murmured comfortingly, still brushing his fingers through Yifan’s hair. “The doctors have you on medicine right now for that very reason; it’s coming in through your IV here, see?”

Yifan’s hazy eyes followed Junmyeon’s finger then, but Junmyeon could tell he didn’t quite understand, still partially out of touch with reality from anesthesia. He let his head rest on the pillow and gave Junmyeon a long, silent look, as if he was thinking about something.

“How’re you so smart?” he slurred, squinting his eyes at Junmyeon. “You look… You look waaay too young to be a doctor.”

Junmyeon blinked a few times, realization dawning on him that maybe Yifan was a little higher on his pain medication and anesthesia than he originally had thought.

“Yifan, I’m not a doctor—It’s me, Junmyeon, remember?” Junmyeon told him, frowning worriedly. “Your boyfriend?”

“Holy shit,” Yifan then swore under his breath, but Junmyeon heard it. His eyes had comically widened, his mouth on the cusp of literally falling open in surprise. “You’re _my_ boyfriend?”

He was being dead serious, and Junmyeon blinked a few times, struggling to absorb what was happening. “Um. Yes?”

“Hoooly _shit_ ,” Yifan swore again, raising one hand and pawing at Luhan, though he didn’t even come close to touching him due to distance. “Dude, did you hear that? This—This cute as hell guy said he’s my boyfriend.”

Luhan was visibly struggling not to laugh. Seeing Yifan in such a state was definitely a rare sight, and a rather amusing one on top of it. “Well, he’s telling the truth.”

“ _Wow_ ,” Yifan breathed, sounding genuinely shocked as he settled back down, before he sighed dreamily. “I’m the luckiest man alive, you guys.”

Junmyeon couldn’t stop his face from turning red.

* * *

Eventually, the anesthesia wore off entirely. Yifan had been moved to his room after his surgery, and although the staff were pumping him full of heavy painkillers, Junmyeon could tell he was in severe pain. Although many patients remained on their back after the surgery, Yifan couldn’t seem to handle it, his voice groggy and desperate as he asked the nurse if he could roll over. Junmyeon was thankful that he at least was trying to be a bit more vocal with his wants and needs, but the reasoning behind it was rather obvious. Yifan was just in too much pain to bite his tongue.

They helped him lie down on his side, a small pillow tucked between his knees to help keep his body properly aligned. The back of his gown was unclasped, as Yifan had complained that anything rubbing against the site was making it worse, even through the bandage. It left his back exposed, the blankets swaddled around his waist instead, and the fabric of his gown pulled gently to either side. And along Yifan’s lower back, running upwards, was a hefty bandage, covering his incision. Junmyeon couldn’t help but bite his lip; the remaining line of stitches under the bandage was a good six inches long, and Junmyeon knew it was going to leave a scar.

But, well, a scar was better than a damaged back.

Although some patients could get up and move on the same day as the surgery, Yifan was not one of them. He didn’t talk much, exhausted but in too much pain to properly sleep, drifting in and out of light naps as he remained lying on his side in his bed. Like others that received a back surgery, he was going to be in the hospital for a few days at the minimum, and Junmyeon could only hope Yifan would be able to adjust decently.

Junmyeon had to admit, he was worried. Sure, the surgery had been successful, so that was one major aspect that they no longer had to worry about now. However, the physical recovery was now beginning, and it would be slow, and not guaranteed to be proper. Not only that, but Junmyeon could tell that Yifan was also a wreck mentally. He just had a major surgery, and was already allowing his mouth to run a mile a minute in anxiety about what was to happen next.

_“What if it doesn’t help my back and I went through all that for nothing?” “How am I going to take medical leave for this?” “What am I supposed to do all day if I’m not at work?” “They said I won’t be allowed to bend over, twist sideways, or lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk; how am I supposed to survive on my own when I can’t do any of those things and don’t have anyone to help me?” “What if it never gets any better?”_

He was troubled. Worried sick, even. Even though he had class in the morning, Junmyeon had been extremely reluctant to leave Yifan’s side. He knew Yifan needed rest, and so did he, and he was aware that the more space the nurses had to work, the better. But knowing that Yifan was in the hospital, trying to recover from a major surgery, and would be alone throughout the night, it made him anxious.

Now that the shock over the snowfall had subsided and salt had been tossed onto the roads, the bus lines were working again. It was evening and the ride was quiet, not many other passengers on the same route. Junmyeon was sitting near the back by himself, shivering a little inside of his winter coat as he peered out the window. The hospital was gone now from his sight, vanished over the horizon, and instead replaced with the rectangular shape of his college campus.

Junmyeon bit his lip and dug around in his pocket, in search of his phone. He took a moment to send a brief text. He then found himself online, running his data dry as he nervously combed through online articles about back surgery. The time went by faster this way though and Junmyeon found himself stepping off the bus soon enough, sniffling in the cold as he glanced down at his phone one last time. His text hadn’t been responded to yet, and he sighed, putting his phone away, beginning to walk in the direction of his dorm. The sound of snow crunching under his shoes did nothing to drown out the mess of nervous thoughts in his head.

And little did Junmyeon know, that upon the hospital’s sixth floor, a phone quietly vibrated inside of a bag. A line of text consisting of nothing more than _‘let me know how he is after you leave; I’m worried about him’_ flashed across the screen for a brief moment before it went dark again.

But Luhan didn’t hear nor see it, too busy dragging a chair across the tiled floor.

“Look,” Luhan began, settling his chair into place right beside Yifan’s bed. He had to admit, Yifan looked pitiful, scrunched into himself as he remained curled up on his side on his cot, pillow crushed between his kneecaps to keep his back straight. “I’ve already told you I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

Yifan kept his mouth shut, glowering at him underneath tousled bangs.

“You remember earlier? When you fell asleep so Junmyeon and I went downstairs to the cafeteria to eat?” Luhan then continued, when he understood Yifan wasn’t going to respond. “We talked. Junmyeon told me a couple things. You and I have a _lot_ to talk about before I go anywhere tonight.”

Although Yifan was in severe pain, and it was keeping him awake, the staff also had him tethered to intense painkillers. All he needed was time. He finally went numb and was knocked out, lips parted and breathing deep as his body at last caved in, craving sleep as it tried to heal. Junmyeon had stayed overnight and hadn’t been taking proper care of himself because of it, and Luhan accompanied him downstairs so they could eat together.

And Junmyeon told him everything.

Now that seemed to grab his attention. Yifan’s expression briefly faltered at those words, uncertainty flashing across his eyes, before he recollected himself.

“What exactly did he tell you?” Yifan then asked, voice tense. Luhan could tell he had struck a nerve already; he knew Yifan didn’t like sharing details of his personal life with him.

“He told me enough. A pretty lengthy list,” Luhan replied vaguely, frowning. “Including the fact that the entire reason you’ve been acting this way towards me is that you’re still carrying a grudge.”

Yifan stayed quiet in response to that statement. Luhan then released a slow and steady sigh through his nose, looking as if he was already growing frustrated.

“Kris, if you had a problem, why didn’t you just _tell_ me? I’m not a mind reader,” Luhan then said. “How am I supposed to know what’s bothering you or what I need to work on, unless you say something?”

Yifan just stared at him from beneath frustrated and furrowed brows, and Luhan could feel that the last of his patience was drying up.

“Why are you acting like this?” Luhan then asked instead, throwing his hands up into the air in frustration. “What do you even want from me? First you’re pissed off at me for something that happened years ago, and now when I actually try to sit here and talk to you about it to make amends, you won’t even say anything!”

“Why should I even sit here and waste my breath talking to you?” Yifan suddenly snapped, voice dripping with venom. He could vaguely hear Junmyeon’s voice in the back of his mind, lashing out at him for being stubborn and selfish and yet, Yifan didn’t dare let his guard down any further than he absolutely had to at the moment. “I’ve already gave you too many chances until now anyway—”

“Are they really even chances, when you won’t bother to have a civil conversation with me to try to fix it?” Luhan then asked, hands settled uncomfortably atop of his knees as he sat in the stiff chair beside Yifan’s cot. “Look, Kris, I care about you. You know that. We’ve been friends for _years—”_

“You stopped caring about me a long time ago,” Yifan interrupted, voice cold.

“Oh, will you _stop_ it already?! If I didn’t care, why would I keep trying? Why would I have kept trying to ensure our friendship is glued together when all you do, over and over, is push me away? I’ve been your friend for literally over a damn _decade_ , Kris! What part of that don’t you understand?!” Luhan shouted, exasperated. “You’re holding onto spite over something that happened when we were teenagers, for god’s sake! We’re in our thirites. People change. Why can’t you just get over it?!”

“It’s easier for you! All you get to do is sit here and boss me around and judge me when you don’t even fucking understand why I’m upset!” Yifan snapped, his voice also beginning to rise in growing anger. “You only started to magically care about me again after I got hurt. You didn’t give a shit about me until I lost consciousness in the dorm that one time, and the entire reason wasn’t because I was sick. It was only because you felt guilty.”

Luhan scowled. “That’s not—”

“It is too true! Don’t sit there and lie to my face, Luhan! You dropped me like a damn rock when we were younger and then all of a sudden tried to come swooping back into my life and it doesn’t work that way!” Yifan shouted, ignoring the sound of quickening footsteps outside the door, knowing their argument was going to snag the attention of a nurse, if it hadn’t already. “You think that just because you tried to play hero and be my friend again that it just makes it all okay and it _doesn’t!”_

It was the thickness in Yifan’s voice and the dampness in his eyes that made Luhan’s heart drop.

“I don’t _care_ that you apologized or that you’re now trying to fix things, because you still don’t even know what you’re truly sorry for. Do you?” Yifan asked bitterly. “Sure. You know you were a shitty friend, and that’s a true statement, but you don’t even understand the actual extent of what your actions caused.”

“Kris—”

“Just shut up and let me finish, for _once_ in my damn life,” Yifan interrupted. “How do you honestly expect me to trust you again? We used to be so _close_ , Luhan. I used to really look up to you when we were younger. I really trusted you. I think it’s safe for me to say I’ve trusted you more than anyone I’ve ever trusted in my entire life, and you took advantage of it. How could you do that to me? You just let me fall flat on my face with no explanation, no reasoning, and for no reason. You stopped hanging out with me at a drop of a hat and stopped replying to my texts, but then constantly hung out with other people and didn’t bother to try to hide it. Was I suddenly not good enough anymore? Did you just get too caught up in your broad social life that you just forgot about me? You didn’t care, though. You didn’t feel bad about it until I nearly dropped dead and the guilt _made_ you think about what you had been doing to me.

“But you never looked past yourself. Did you? You never did and you still don’t. You always complain that I don’t treat what’s left of our friendship the same as I used to, but you don’t bother to think about _why_ I’m the way I am these days.”

Yifan paused for only a moment, his hands twisting into the sheets.

“I can’t trust you like that again. I _can’t_. Do I want to? Sure. But I can’t. I’m not stupid enough to let the same flame burn me twice. I’d rather be alone than to risk all that again,” Yifan admitted. “I know I’m an asshole. I can admit it. And I’m sorry that I am one, but it’s who I am these days and it’s all I know how to do anymore because it keeps you away from me.”

Luhan’s face fell then. “Are… Are you afraid of me?”

“Not _you,_ I just—I don’t know what to expect from you anymore. What you’ll wind up doing to me. _That’s_ what scares me,” Yifan mumbled, voice cracking briefly over his confession. It wasn’t like him, being so open, and Luhan could tell he was uncomfortable. “You were one of the only friends I had, Luhan, and you knew how attached to you I was. Do you have any idea of how I felt back then? It’s more than just the things you did, ignoring me and just tossing me aside like I meant nothing. You just—You made me feel like complete _shit_ back then. My life was already a mess then regardless. I barely had any friends, my boyfriend cheated on me, I switched my major and my grades were plummeting, my classmates hated me because I wasn’t as talented as they were, my professors hated me, even my own parents started to hate me because I decided I wanted to be an artist. I forgot how to take care of myself, I wasn’t eating, I wasn’t sleeping. And I kept getting my hopes up that things would go back to normal, but they never did.

“I spent so many hours and days just wondering _why_ , you know. I asked myself countless times why you suddenly did all that to me, why you suddenly started ignoring me, why you didn’t care anymore, why I was suddenly just irrelevant to you entirely. I felt so _lonely_ , Luhan, and it was an even bigger kick in the teeth when you, for once, agreed to hang out with me and then stood me up. I just—I couldn’t do it anymore. You made me feel so unwanted and so down in the dumps that I just couldn’t keep trying,” Yifan admitted, his voice wavering. “You hurt me so fucking _bad_ and I can’t even sit here and explain to you how shitty you made me feel back then. And then you try to just come back into my life, acting like it’s no big deal, that it’s just something I can wipe off my hands and claim it’s all said and done. I can’t let it go like that. You know I don’t forgive easily, and that’s part of it, but—It’s even harder to forgive you when I’m too afraid to, because I know you’re plenty capable of doing this again. You’re already showing similar signs, anyway. How many times have you wanted me to hang out with you without asking if I already had plans, or tried to force me into going somewhere you wanted, without asking for my opinion? How many times have you forgotten plans that we made? How many years now have you forgotten my birthday?

“And I know Junmyeon was right when he lashed out at me, I know he had a point when he told me that all I was focused on was myself and that if I didn’t want you in my life anymore then I just need to stop talking to you,” Yifan rambled. His voice was shaking around his words, and for a moment, Luhan believed the man was about to cry. “He’s right, and I know he is. I know I’m being an ass, I know I’m selfish, I know I’m being hard to get along with in general. And I know I fucked up, I know I shouldn’t have been acting like that, but I just—I don’t… I don’t _have_ anyone else except for you and Junmyeon. I don’t want to completely boot you out of my life but I can’t force myself to trust you like I used to either, and I just—I don’t _know_ , I don’t know what I want—”

Luhan was suddenly grossly aware of the rhythmic beeping of Yifan’s heart monitor. It was quickening to follow his pulse, faster due to the stress of the situation, or so he believed. However, he didn’t have long to dwell on it. Luhan nearly jumped out of his skin as a soft hand settled upon his upper arm, and he whirled on his heel to find himself staring at one of the nurses, uncertain of how long she had been standing there.

“Would you mind waiting outside for a while?” she asked, her voice level and calm. “We need to do some testing right now to see how he’s doing and it’s important for his stress to stay down while he heals.”

Too overwhelmed with what Yifan had just told him, Luhan couldn’t get his voice to work, merely nodding slowly in reply to show he understood. He cast a glance over at Yifan, already mulling over what the professor had just spilled to him. And as the nurse stepped around him to inspect Yifan’s monitor and his IVs, Luhan numbly shuffled towards the door.

* * *

It didn’t take long for rumors to begin spreading around campus. By the time Junmyeon slipped into the dining hall the following afternoon for lunch, after a round of classes, he was already beginning to hear the murmurs of the student body. He could pick up their words as he stood in lines and even at the tables surrounding him as he forced himself to actually eat and not just pick at his food.

_“Did you hear that all of Kris’ lectures for the day got canceled?” “Yeah, he didn’t even send an email out about it. There was a note taped to the door of the lecture room. How rude is that? No warning or anything!” “I heard he got fired—” “What?! Who told you that?” “Hopefully it’s true—”_

He felt sick.

The day was grossly slow. Junmyeon had never wanted to finish with his lectures for the day faster in his entire life. He was planning on going back to the hospital after he was done with classes, itching to check on Yifan and see how he was doing.

He and Luhan had texted each other a few times last night. Junmyeon was fussy then, pestering Luhan with countless questions to see how Yifan was holding up since he had gone home yesterday. Luhan shooed his worries away, saying that Yifan seemed to be doing fine. His vitals were in good standing, he was listening to the nurses, and he had finally eaten something before Luhan had left.

Still, Luhan mentioned absolutely nothing about their relationship. It left Junmyeon curious; had Yifan ignored everything he had said and was just acting as if nothing was wrong? Or had something been said that Luhan just wasn’t sharing with him yet? It really wasn’t his business – it was between Yifan and Luhan – but Junmyeon was dying to know the truth.

Even the bus ride after his lectures seemed to drag on for an eternity. Junmyeon couldn’t sit still the entire journey, adjusting his weight awkwardly on his seat as he watched the world pass him by through the window.

His phone vibrated within the depths of his jacket pocket, and Junmyeon hurriedly fished it out to see what the source was. His shoulder sagged with relief as he realized it was from Sehun.

_‘You’re going to be back tonight for dinner, right? Or are you staying at the hospital til late again? Let me know so I don’t accidentally leave you behind.’_

Aside from Sehun, Junmyeon hadn’t dared breathe a word about the current situation to anyone else. The less people who knew the truth, the better. Junmyeon was thankful that the only ones who were fully aware of Yifan’s condition were Sehun, Luhan, and himself. Sure, it bothered him to hear the rumors spreading about Yifan, but he knew it was far safer territory if no one became aware of the complete story.

He trusted Sehun entirely. His roommate had kept the news about his dating life with Yifan a complete secret, much to Junmyeon’s relief. When he had spent so much time at Yifan’s, and at the hospital, Junmyeon had filled Sehun in with the news of what had happened after he returned to the dorms. It wasn’t only to satisfy Sehun’s curiosity; he also needed to talk about it so he wouldn’t drive himself crazy mulling over all the possible outcomes regarding Yifan’s current state of health.

At long last, the bus reaches its stop on the hospital grounds. Junmyeon practically flew down the steps and hurried towards the main building, shrugging on his backpack as he went.

He knew that Luhan was a professor, so he wasn’t sure if Luhan was going to be stopping by later or night. Regardless, Junmyeon couldn’t wait. He was sure he looked ridiculous, trekking through the lengthy corridors in an awkward powerwalk, but he tried not to dwell on it too much.

He remembered the location of Yifan’s room. However, when he poked his head around the doorframe to see how Yifan was faring, the sight he was greeted with wasn’t what he had been expecting. Instead of Yifan lying in bed to rest, there he was, standing on his own two feet. Perhaps, in other circumstances, Junmyeon would be happy to witness such a thing, but instead, his heart began to pump faster with panic.

Junmyeon was far from a medical expert, but he knew that after a major surgery, Yifan shouldn’t be up and moving yet without some sort of supervision.

“Yifan,” Junmyeon blurted, stepping into the room then. Yifan then glanced up, appearing startled for a brief moment, frozen in place. “What in the _world_ are you doing?”

Yifan was standing beside his bed, and Junmyeon could have sworn his legs were quivering pathetically beneath him. There was still a sum of tubing connecting him to his IV stand, feeding him liquids and pain medications. Junmyeon could easily remember the staff telling him that the pain was going to be extreme for the first couple of days. Yifan was still clad in his hospital gown, and, below the band adorned around his wrist, were his hands, desperately clutching the railings of his cot. His knuckles were turning white as he held on tightly.

“You just had a major surgery,” Junmyeon then continued, once he realized Yifan wasn’t going to reply. He moved closer to the bed, one hand already outstretched to try to reach for Yifan’s arm. “You can’t just—”

“I can do it,” Yifan interrupted, turning his head away to instead glance down at his own two feet. “Just—Just let me do it.”

Junmyeon didn’t trust Yifan’s words at all right then, but the sight alone had him frozen in place, halfway across the room. He could feel his heart breaking in his chest. Yifan couldn’t even walk yet. He was trying to, but he was having very little success. He couldn’t pick up his feet; it left the sound of his slippers dragging across the floor echoing in the small room. Even then, Yifan wasn’t achieving much. He was trembling and the meager movement was visibly sucking the life out of him, leaving his face contorted with pain and his breath coming in sharp pants.

And before Junmyeon could tell him to stop, Yifan’s body gave out on him. His knees buckled and his fingers slipped from around the bar surrounding his bed. The world was moving too quickly and Junmyeon’s scream was muffled in his own eardrums as Yifan suddenly hit the floor, IV stand being dragged down with him and noisily clattering against the tile.

Then came the mixture of sounds and the stampede of footsteps. There was immediately a nurse picking up the IV stand while another had her arms locked underneath Yifan’s gangly limbs, carefully helping him to his feet. Yifan’s legs were visibly sagging, unable to support his weight entirely just yet, and there was a brief moment of fumbling as Yifan desperately pawed at her, digging his fingers into the nurse’s scrubs as if terrified he was going to fall again.

“Kris, we’ve already gone over this. You can’t just climb out of bed without telling anyone,” the nurse scolded, carefully maneuvering Yifan’s body to move him closer to the bed, before slowly helping him back up and onto the mattress. “Your body hasn’t healed enough yet for that. You need to let us help you. If you aren’t careful, you’re going to really hurt yourself.”

After they helped Yifan back into bed, IV stand in place, and all of his tubes properly connected, the room quieted. The nurses began to file out to help other patients, though the woman who had helped Yifan to his feet lingered behind. Now that the rush had died down, she turned around to face Junmyeon, hefting a small sigh in the process. “I take it that you’re Junmyeon?”

He couldn’t contain the look of surprise that overtook his face. “Y-Yes.”

“Ah, I figured as such. Kris talks about you a lot,” the nurse then commented. Sooyoung, read the identification badge clipped to the neckline of her scrubs. “Can we speak outside for a few minutes?”

Unsure of where the conversation was going, Junmyeon hesitantly nodded. Sooyoung led him out of Yifan’s room, before she gently closed the door behind the two of them. Through the small window, Junmyeon could see Yifan curled up in his cot, grumpily burrowing down into his pillow.

“First things first, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Sooyoung; I’m one of the main nurses assigned to Kris to help him out while he heals. Long story short, our team gives him assistance when he needs it and we’re slowly working on transitioning him into physical therapy,” Sooyoung explained. “But that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. As I mentioned earlier, Kris talks about you quite a bit. I can tell he really cares about you and it sounds like the two of you have been together for a while now. I’m sure you know how stubborn he can be.”

Junmyeon’s face reddened slightly, embarrassed that Yifan had disclosed their relationship so willingly to the medical team. It was a bit obvious, and he knew it, with how close the two of them were, and how their skin was decorated with slowly fading marks from when they had slept together. Still, it was embarrassing to admit. Regardless, Junmyeon merely cleared his throat and nodded. “He’s… Well, he can be as stubborn as a mule at times. Like talking to a brick wall.”

“Precisely. That’s one big issue we’ve been having with him since his surgery. He’s a bit behind schedule in comparison of other people who have had a spinal fusion. Majority of patients are up and moving the same day. However, Kris’ back was in awful shape and he had a very intense surgery, so it’s understandable that he needs to move slower. Too much too fast could be very detrimental to him right now. But I don’t think he fully understands that,” Sooyoung said with a sigh. “Either that, or he does get it, and just doesn’t care. It’s been very hard to get through to him. We’ve all explained to him, countless times, that he needs to slow down and take it easy, but he doesn’t listen. I think he’s assuming that if he pushes himself harder he’ll get out of the hospital sooner, but at the rate he’s going, he’s going to end up hurting himself badly.”

Junmyeon wasn’t sure if he wanted to know, but he had to ask. He bit his lip. “What exactly has he been doing? Aside from climbing out of bed when everyone has their backs turned.”

“He’s just overall been pushing his body way too hard. It takes time to recover. It’s important to work on strengthening yourself again, but not to the point where you’re putting yourself in danger. He’s had hardware inserted into his spine, he’s had a bone graft, he’s had parts of his bones removed to let his spinal cord have more breathing room. You can’t rush healing after all that,” Sooyoung explained, “but that just seems to fly over his head. He has to relearn how to do everything, because he can’t move like he used to; he can’t bend or twist or lift heavier things. He’s going to basically have to start all over again. And I think he’s just frustrated. We were working on baby steps around the room today and tried to help him learn how to sit down in a chair and stand back up, which started out okay. But if it hurts, you should stop. Kris… Doesn’t seem to know when to stop. He’s a very stubborn man, which isn’t always a good thing.”

“I see…” Junmyeon murmured, shoulders slumping with a sigh of his own. “I’m honestly not surprised, unfortunately. I know he’s hardheaded. I can talk to him and see if I can help him realize it’s not a race here. Like you said, he needs to focus on recovery…”

“I think that would be a good idea. He may listen to you, compared to us,” Sooyoung replied with a cheeky smile on her face. “He seems quite fond of you, after all.”

Junmyeon released an awkward cough. “Um, well, I… I’ll talk to him. Hopefully I’ll have good results.”

After discussing a few more aspects of Yifan’s health, Junmyeon, alone, turned to face the closed door of Yifan’s room. Junmyeon could only assume Sooyoung’s guess of Yifan being frustrated with both the situation and himself was correct. After all, aside from being stubborn, Junmyeon knew that Yifan was always trying to keep himself busy. He was always working, whether it be his job as a professor, or stuck in traffic on his commute, or slaving away at his art. He was unaccustomed to lying around with nothing to do and to be surrounded by nothing but his own thoughts.

Junmyeon reached out and took the knob into his hand, before pushing the door open wide enough to allow himself entrance. Thankfully, Yifan was still in bed, and he perked up as Junmyeon closed the door. There was a beat of silence between them as Junmyeon walked over to the bed, slowly taking a seat in the chair next to Yifan’s cot.

Junmyeon frowned, forehead dimpling unhappily beneath his bangs. “What’s all this talk of you being uncooperative and stubborn?”

“Tch. Did they snitch on me to you already?” Yifan grumbled, not bothering to dodge the question. “I’m not being uncooperative. Or stubborn.”

“Yifan,” Junmyeon nearly groaned, reaching out to scrub his palm across his forehead. “Don’t lie to me. I know you. You have a skull like a rock.”

He grumpily crossed his arms across his chest, turning his head away from Junmyeon. “I already told you I haven’t done anything.”

“So sneaking out of bed multiple times doesn’t count?” Junmyeon deadpanned, lips unhappily twisting to one side. Yifan remained silent in response to that, arms still folded across his chest. “Yifan, I’m not going to sit here and argue with you. Sooyoung told me you aren’t listening to the staff, and I’m sure it’s frustrating for all of them. They’re just trying to help you. They’re nurses. They know what they’re talking about and you should follow whatever advice they give you.”

Yifan huffed. “I don’t need help.”

“Oh, _stop_ it. I know you’re only acting like this because you’re frustrated and embarrassed. And you shouldn’t be. You just had a major surgery and you _need_ help right now if you want to get better,” Junmyeon explained, voice quieting with concern. He reached out with one hand and let it rest on Yifan’s forearm. “Look at me. You need to trust them, and you need to trust me. Just listen to them. You’ll heal faster if you just listen to their instructions.”

“It isn’t fast enough,” Yifan suddenly blurted. Junmyeon’s face softened with understanding, realizing his words had been correct after all. Frustration, impatience, and shame. “First they tell me I need to work hard on physical therapy but then tell me I need to stop because I’m doing too much. What do they want from me? I just want to get out of here.”

“You’re going to be here for at least a few more days. Relax. You’re here to get better, remember?” Junmyeon coaxed, squeezing Yifan’s arm gently in his small fingers. “You do need to work on physical therapy to help strengthen your body again, but you can’t rush into it. Yifan, they literally operated on your _spine._ You can’t rush healing with something so critical. One wrong move and you can hurt yourself even more and wind up in a worse spot than where you started. We’re all worried about you.”

“I know that.” Yifan pursed his lips unhappily, gaze lowering to stare at his legs. Junmyeon could see the unhappy twinkle in his eyes. “It’s just taking too long. It’s too many basic things. I feel… I feel useless, okay? Does that make you happy, hearing me admit it?”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Junmyeon murmured, eyebrows upturning with concern. “I love you, remember? Why would hearing that you feel so upset make me happy? Yifan, I just told you: you had a major surgery. You aren’t useless, or anything else negative you’ve been telling yourself—”

“I can’t walk,” Yifan interrupted, “I can’t even get out of bed by myself. How is that not useless?”

“Because they just drilled into your spine and ripped pieces of it out! You aren’t supposed to be up and moving again at the drop of a hat. You need to let your body recover. You _have_ to slow down,” Junmyeon nagged, huffing unhappily. “Yifan, you know what the surgeon said. You’re going to have to relearn how to do literally everything. You’re a grown-up, sure, but your body right now is like a toddler again. You have to relearn how to stand up, how to squat down, how to walk, all of it. It’s going to take time. You have to be patient and let your body go on its own schedule.”

Yifan remained silent, eyes glazed over with uncertainty as his arms remained folded tightly over his chest.

“You act as if you’re doing this all on your own. You have to trust us. The nurses want to see you improve,” Junmyeon said softly, “and I’m going to help you too.”

Now that seemed to throw him for a loop. Yifan blinked in surprise, head swiveling sideways immediately to glance at Junmyeon. “Huh? But you—”

“Yifan, I may be a student, and I may live on campus, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you deal with this all on your own. You’re my boyfriend. Of course I’m going to try to help you,” Junmyeon teased, his face warming with a soft smile. “I can come see you here outside of classes, and then when you get released and get to go home, I can come visit you and help you out if you need me.”

Junmyeon could have sworn there was a splash of red on the back of Yifan’s neck.

“Why are you getting flustered?” Junmyeon asked with a laugh, leaning over in an attempt of placing a peck on Yifan’s cheek, only for the professor to lean away from him.

“You’re embarrassing me,” Yifan muttered under his breath, averting his gaze.

“How? By letting you know I care about you?” Junmyeon asked rhetorically, rolling his eyes playfully. “You really are secretly a big softie. All it took was for me to say I’m going to help take care of you for you to get all red.”

“I’m not used to people trying to take care of me, alright?” Yifan grumbled, cheeks threatening to redden.

“Well, better try to adjust now than later. I’ve already told you that the nurses – and me, too – want to see you get well again,” Junmyeon continued. “Promise me you’ll stop being so hardheaded?”

When Yifan didn’t reply, Junmyeon reached out and pinched him.

“Ow! Shit, that hurt! Don’t do that,” Yifan whined, swatting Junmyeon’s hand away as he nursed at the throbbing spot on his chest. “Fine. I’m not gonna promise anything, but I’ll try harder to listen. Okay?”

“It’s a start,” Junmyeon agreed, nodding. “Just listen to what the staff tell you and you’ll be in tiptop shape in no time.”

“I hope so. I want to go home,” Yifan muttered, picking at the bedsheet. “How was class?”

Junmyeon sighed, stretching out his legs. “Boring. And way too long. This day felt like it dragged on for a century, I swear.”

“Probably because you were itching to come see me,” Yifan snickered, laughing when Junmyeon swatted him playfully on the arm. “I’m joking, I’m joking. Really though, I’m glad you came. It’s been too quiet here.”

Junmyeon blinked in surprise. “You haven’t heard anything from anyone?”

“You make it sound like I have friends,” Yifan replied, voice sour as he unhappily pursed his lips together.

“I mean, like… Well… Luhan was here yesterday. And I know he stayed late after I went home,” Junmyeon said softly, watching Yifan’s body tense up at the mere mentioning of his name. “Did… Did something happen?”

Yifan officially looked uncomfortable, shuffling his legs slightly atop of the stiff mattress. “Sort of…”

“What do you mean ‘sort of’?” Junmyeon pressed, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Nothing really _happened_ , we just…talked, I guess,” Yifan muttered, suddenly seeming embarrassed, and in the process of clamming up entirely. “About some things.”

“Such as…?” Junmyeon began, only for Yifan to give him a dark look.

“You should know, considering you’re the one that blabbed to him about my business in the first place,” Yifan snapped, temper briefly flaring up as he watched Junmyeon quickly lean away from him. Yifan then huffed, looking away and fixating his gaze onto the opposite wall. “It’s whatever. He already knows.”

Junmyeon bit his lip. “What exactly happened?”

“I told you, we just talked. Put our words out on the table,” Yifan murmured. Junmyeon could see the embarrassment creeping back up into his eyes, and he knew right then that it had been more than just a simple conversation.

“You did more than talk,” Junmyeon then stated, watching Yifan’s hands clench up with nerves. “Did you two get into another argument?”

“I guess… Okay, _kinda_ , but it wasn’t like usual, alright?” Yifan blabbed, shaking his head lightly from side to side. “Look, you can’t get angry at me this time for it. I told him what was on my mind, and—”

“Wait,” Junmyeon interrupted, blinking in surprise. “You actually told him how you feel?”

“Yeah,” Yifan replied, a hint of red dusting over the ridges of his cheekbones. “Why are you acting like this is such shocking news?”

“Because it is! You’ve been acting all passive aggressive for over ten years. It’s a big deal for you to finally tell him what’s been bugging you,” Junmyeon continued. “What did he say?”

“We… We did argue, but I told him point blank about how I felt. I blew up on him. I didn’t mean to; it all just came out and I couldn’t stop,” Yifan said quietly. “I got too worked up and the nurse asked him to wait outside because my heartrate was getting high, and… That was that.”

Junmyeon frowned. “That’s all?”

“Yeah,” Yifan confessed, actually sounding guilty as his shoulders slumped in a sigh. “I guess he left after that. He didn’t come back into the room after all that happened.”

“He probably felt awkward and didn’t know what to say to you,” Junmyeon said. “I told you; you’ve been acting so uncooperative for literally over a decade. I’d be thrown for a loop too if you suddenly went off on me about it.”

Yifan winced. “He probably isn’t going to try to talk to me ever again, is he?”

“He continued to have contact with you even though you were giving him the cold shoulder. I doubt that’s going to stop him or change his mind,” Junmyeon replied.

“But what if it does?” Yifan fussed, already switching over to overdramatic mode. He sank back further into the bed.

“You’re overreacting, Yifan,” Junmyeon deadpanned.

“You don’t understand!” Yifan nearly howled. “This is the end and I caused it.”

“Yifan—”

“Now he hates me too, I just know it—”

_“Yifan—”_

“Just like everyone else, Junmyeon!” Yifan cried. “I even managed to push away—”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a clearing throat. Yifan and Junmyeon both quieted down then, glancing simultaneously at the doorway, and there was no hiding the surprise in Yifan’s eyes right then. He could recognize that face anywhere.

“Luhan?” Yifan then asked, his voice uncertain and wavering at the edges as he stared at the other professor from across the room.

“Uh, hey,” Luhan started awkwardly, hovering in the doorway. His jacket was nearly zipped up to his throat and in his hands was a thin, yet long, rectangular box. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Just the drama queen having a meltdown,” Junmyeon then stated, easily ignoring the dirty look Yifan shot in his direction. Instead, Junmyeon gave Luhan a rather worried glance, noticing he wasn’t crossing through the entrance of the room. “Um, do you need me to leave? If you need to Yifan I can—”

“It’s okay,” Luhan interjected, shaking his head. He looked over at Yifan then. “I mean, if it’s cool with you…?”

Yifan blinked once, then twice, remaining silent the entire time. He at last managed to gather his wits, merely nodding slowly, unsure as to what was about to happen.

And when Luhan approached the bed, and set the box he had been carrying down on Yifan’s lap, he only appeared more confused than he had a few seconds ago.

“What’s this?” Yifan asked, reaching out to begin picking at the closed lid of the box.

“Donuts. I got them for you,” Luhan replied, sounding terribly uncertain of his own actions all of a sudden. “You still like them, right?”

Having opened the box, Yifan was staring down at the colorful assortment of donuts with a perplexed expression on his face. He then glanced up at Luhan and frowned. “I mean, thanks, but I don’t understand…”

“I guess you can call it a peace treaty,” Luhan then said, letting out a small sigh. He tugged his fingers through his bangs. “Look, I’m _sorry._ I just, I didn’t—Ugh. Can we just talk about this?”

Yifan’s forehead dimpled as he frowned a bit deeper. “About what?”

“About yesterday. I’m sorry. I’m _really_ sorry, okay? I know things have been rough between us and after what happened yesterday… I have a new perspective. I’ve been trying to get through to you and nothing worked. And I just kept blaming you for everything,” Luhan rambled, “and I thought about it. You were right. I didn’t understand how badly I hurt you. I mean, I do now, but up until you told me… You’re right. I didn’t understand.

“And I’ve been throwing all this onto you for years. Sure, you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder and acting like an ass and of course there have been problems between us, but I didn’t think about the bigger picture,” Luhan continued. “I mean, after everything you told me, like I said, I thought about some things. When we were younger… I was the ass back then. I said I was sorry for ignoring you after the whole hospital incident, but I acted as if ‘sorry’ could take it all back and resolve it at the snap of my fingers. And I didn’t even bother to try to explain myself, as if you didn’t deserve to know why I did all those things. I just said sorry and threw the ball into your court and got angry when you never returned it.”

“But why?” Yifan then asked, his voice shaky with newfound nerves. “Why _did_ you suddenly act like that towards me?”

Luhan sighed and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “There’s no good reason for it. Like I said, I was an ass back then. I mean, sure, college was a change of pace for both of us. I was far more extraverted than you ever were back then. But even if I did make a lot of new friends and was busy trying to make new experiences, it shouldn’t have ever been a reason for me to just leave you in the dust like I did back then.”

Yifan remained silent, slowly soaking in what Luhan told him.

“And I know I can’t take any of that back. All I can tell you is that I’m sorry. It makes sense now, and I just… I hate that it took so long for me to realize it,” Luhan admitted, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket sleeve. “And I know things have been really rough between us for years. I can understand why now. We both haven’t been the best of people. But I don’t want something that happened so long ago to be the death of us, Kris. I know I don’t say it enough, or said it enough when we were younger, but I do care about you, both as a person and as a friend I’ve had for nearly, _literally,_ half of my life. Can’t we just…start over? Clean slate? And let it go?”

Yifan didn’t say anything. He was staring blankly down at the box of donuts as Luhan spoke, letting the man’s words wash over him as he slowly took them in. His head was quiet and he could feel the combined stares of Junmyeon and Luhan on him, waiting for him to say something. But he couldn’t get his mouth to work. But he felt different all of a sudden, a sense of relief washing over his mind. Closure? Was this what closure felt like? Yifan wasn’t sure. But for Luhan to admit that he was wrong, for Luhan to finally understand how he felt, for Luhan to finally want them to just move on, it took a sudden weight off of his shoulders.

Maybe this was all they had needed all along.

“I don’t think we can go back to what we were just like that. You know what I told you,” Yifan said softly, referring to his confession of how he still felt lingering fear of getting hurt all over again by letting Luhan back into his life too quickly. “But… I don’t think it’s impossible. It’ll just take time.”

“I’m not perfect. I’ve never claimed to be. I know I fucked up too. But I never said anything. I told myself that it was better to get distant because I was afraid and because I was hurt,” Yifan murmured, staring into the box. “Both of us messed up and even though I put so much distance between the two of us since we were teenagers… I don’t think it’s impossible to walk back the other way and close the gap.”

Luhan perked up at that, face beginning to brighten. “It’s a start.”

“Right,” Yifan agreed. There was the tiniest bit of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He couldn’t resist the temptation. He reached into the open box of donuts and plucked one up, before unceremoniously biting into it. The mixture of fried dough and chocolate glaze tasted like heaven and the sugar washing over him was addictive already, especially after surviving on nothing but hospital food for a while now. “I guess we all have to start somewhere.”

And although Junmyeon didn’t have all the details of the situation, especially regarding their previous argument, he felt a sense of peace washing over the room right then. He knew Yifan was stubborn and that people didn’t change overnight, but Yifan was right, they all had to start somewhere. And Junmyeon had hope. For the two of them to finally, at long last, have this type of discussion, it meant that somehow or another, the tides were beginning to change.

It brought a smile to his face, and he didn’t know how to respond when the two professors curiously asked him what he was grinning about.

He hadn’t been around to see how Luhan and Yifan used to be as college students, or how their friendship had been built back then, but a large part of him hoped he’d be able to witness it in the years to come.


	30. Translucent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ TRANSLUCENT ]  
>  permitting the passage of light_  
> A/N: Warning this chapter due to sexual content

As Yifan’s progress continued, time proved to be highly beneficial to him. Junmyeon was relieved to see how his health began to improve as the week progressed. He had barely been able to sit up or stand initially, stiff and struggling to move at all from severe pain. As the days began to tick away, he began to slowly regain mobility, bit by bit. Junmyeon could remember how only a few days ago Yifan barely managed to take a few baby steps inside his room, so although the sight was a little odd to see, he was relieved to find Yifan shuffling around the hallways with his walker, relearning how to move.

Progress was slow, and he still had a long way to go, but Junmyeon could see the improvement. The medical staff had taken him off of his IV of pain medications and was instead switched over to oral dosages. The drainage tubing was still buried into his back to keep his wound dry. Yifan had mentioned it was uncomfortable to lie on when he was in bed, but then again, Junmyeon knew his entire body was still in quite a lot of pain, despite his medications. He had seen the bruises on Yifan’s sides and had caught a glimpse of the hefty incision running up the base of his spine. Aside from the stiffness and pain making him uncomfortable, Junmyeon knew that having so many things being pumped through his system was probably also why he still wasn’t feeling up to snuff yet. The nurse had mentioned that aside from his pain medication, he was also running on a prescription of antibiotics and muscle relaxers. Still, despite it all, Junmyeon was glad to see Yifan being able to move around again, even if it was just a little, and to see his appetite finally returning. Sometimes he was worried about Yifan’s progress, knowing he wasn’t recovering as fast as other people who had undergone the same surgery, but remembering that he was already off of his drip of morphine and had his catheter removed, and to see him wandering around trying to relearn how to walk, well, Junmyeon knew everything was going to be okay.

It would just take time.

“You did really well today,” Junmyeon praised, hovering beside the bed. The four of them had just returned to Yifan’s room a few minutes ago. Junmyeon and Luhan had tagged along for moral support as the physical therapist aided Yifan in maneuvering the hospital halls. It had been a very time-consuming journey, and not a very long trip, as Yifan was still in severe pain and barely had any strength in his muscles anymore, but they all could label it a success. “You made it a lot further then you did last time!”

Yifan, lying on his back in bed, let out a tired sigh. He wasn’t allowed to take his compression stockings off yet, and he was picking at the hem of them that settled along his kneecap. Although he was starting to become a little more mobile, it wasn’t enough yet for him to take them off. Junmyeon knew he hated them, as they were a bit uncomfortable for him, but after one brief moment of complaining, Yifan didn’t say anything else about it. It was a little surprising, but Junmyeon figured that Yifan understood that they were only there to help him. Some discomfort sounded much better than a vein disorder or a blood clot from not enough circulation.

The physical therapist had left the room a few minutes ago, as it was nearly time for Yifan to eat. Junmyeon, still hovering next to Yifan’s bed, spoke up yet again. “Feeling any better?”

“Not really,” Yifan muttered, lips unhappily twisting to one side. “I mean, it’s not unbearable pain anymore like it was on the first day, but if I had to rate it on a scale of one to ten? It’s probably like a solid seven, all day, all night, even with the meds.”

“Well, the good news is, you get to go home this weekend, which means you’re on the downhill slide,” Junmyeon said, offering Yifan a warm smile. “Luhan offered to drive you home, since you still won’t be able to operate a vehicle for a while.”

“That’d be nice,” Yifan murmured, yawning as he wiggled around a little on his bed. “It’d be nicer if I could ever get comfortable. I don’t know why I’m always so tired.”

“Probably because you’ve been waking up constantly during the night,” Luhan commented, “and you’re still recovering from a major surgery where they operated your _spine_.”

“Speaking of night, it’s getting kind of late,” Junmyeon then said, checking his watch. “We should probably head downstairs to get something to eat before the cafeteria shuts down for the day. Yifan, we’ll come back up here to say bye before we leave, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. It’s fine,” Yifan replied, “it’s not like you’ll be missing much. Just time to eat and be a slug and watch basketball or something.”

With that, Luhan and Junmyeon left Yifan’s room and instead headed down the hallway in search of the elevator. It was quiet between the two of them until they shuffled inside, and Luhan situated himself in front of the panel of buttons to press the one needed for the proper floor. As the elevator slowly descended, Junmyeon couldn’t stop himself from suddenly blurting out a thought that had been on his mind for a while.

“You know,” Junmyeon began, watching Luhan perk up from beside him, “considering everything that happened between the two of you, it’s a bit surprising to see how humble you can be around Yifan.”

Luhan furrowed his eyebrows in a puzzled fashion. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I mean, I know you guys came to a decision to just move on and start fresh, but you’re the one who pushed for that to happen between the two of you. I don’t know the whole story of what happened between the two of you, since I wasn’t there to see it all happen, but I know there are two sides to every story,” Junmyeon rambled. “But you still pushed for a new start anyway. You both caused problems but you took on most of them yourself when you guys talked that day. You do know not everything is your fault, right?”

“You’re correct. We both screwed up and although I took on most of the blame during that argument, I do know it’s not all my fault. But at the end of the day, I know it’s one of the only routes I could’ve taken for us to find a solution. You know by now how stubborn, hard-headed, and childish Kris can be,” Luhan replied with a groan, “so even if it meant taking on more blame than he refused to take, at least it worked out in the end. You know, they do say relationships take work, and that’s not just for romance, Junmyeon. Friendships take work too, and it’s not always fifty-fifty. Sometimes it’s eighty-twenty, and it’s not always fair, but sometimes it’s just what you have to do. I just wish he had said something to me sooner. We probably could’ve solved this ages ago if he had, and he probably wouldn’t have gotten so irritable and cold if he hadn’t held onto all that negativity for so many years.”

“Sacrificing for the greater good,” Junmyeon commented as he quirked a small smile. “It’s a good thing your skull isn’t made out of brick like his is. I just don’t understand why he waited for so long to finally say something to you, if it’s been bothering him for so long.”

“Well, as the entire world knows, he’s stubborn. That’s part of it. But I think now that I know more about why he’s been so upset all these years, it makes a bit more sense. He’s probably been keeping it to himself because he’s been too afraid to say something. Don’t get me wrong; Kris can be really full of himself sometimes. He can be arrogant and narcissistic and he loves to have his ego stroked,” Luhan said, stepping out of the elevator. Junmyeon followed him. “But I think after what happened, he was too scared to say something to me. I know I hurt him, and I think he was just too afraid of getting hurt again. He used to be so different when he was your age, you know. He was really soft-spoken and shy and didn’t have much to any friends because of it. He never told anyone point-blank if he was upset or if they had done something to hurt his feelings. He was a people pleaser and just wanted to be liked. He once tried to smoke a cigarette just to try to fit in and it made him so sick he never touched another one since.”

“He’s changed a lot, hasn’t he?” Junmyeon murmured.

“College changed him for sure. I mean, look at him now. Even if he sometimes goes overboard with it, he at least says what’s on his mind now. He’s become really blunt. He’s even more stubborn than he used to be back then. He’s still pretty quiet, but he isn’t shy anymore. But one thing that hasn’t changed is that he still doesn’t know when it’s appropriate to let people in to let them know how he feels,” Luhan said. “Between that and just being afraid of getting his heart stepped on, I guess he just figured it’d be a safer option not to say anything. A self-defense mechanism, I suppose. I don’t know. I’m not a psychologist. But that’s my assumption.”

“Well, no matter the reason, I’m just glad you two can start working on being friends again,” Junmyeon commented, stepping into the cafeteria alongside Luhan.

“Honestly?” Luhan offered rhetorically, “so am I.”

* * *

With the snow that had temporarily shut down campus, Monday and Tuesday classes had been canceled. And even though classes resumed that Wednesday, Yifan’s classes were completely at a standstill. With his initial recovery stretching further into the work week due to a surgery that fell on a Tuesday, all of Yifan’s lectures had been cancelled for the entire week.

And as usual, word spread around campus extremely fast.

Sure, Junmyeon had already begun to hear the rumors circulating when Yifan’s class was first canceled with no warning that Wednesday, but as the week progressed, everything began to increase exponentially. It was a sea of gossip, of rumors, of mean comments, of ill wishes, and negativity.

It was beginning to suffocate him.

“He must have gotten fired or _something_ ,” Zitao rambled. “I mean, come on, there are only three weeks of classes left for the semester. It’s like he dropped off the face of the earth! Not a single peep. _And!_ I’ve heard that he’s getting replaced for the rest of the semester. So what else could have happened for him to be replaced, other than for him not to be coming back at all?”

Junmyeon’s grip was much too tight around his silverware and his spoon screeched against the bottom of his bowl as he scraped roughly at his food.

“Can we _please,”_ Junmyeon gritted out, “talk about something else?”

The other boys at the table stole glances at each other, confused by Junmyeon’s outburst, but with Sehun’s coaxing, the conversation thankfully began to steer elsewhere.

Desperate for a break from the drama, Junmyeon swung by the cafeteria alone on Saturday afternoon to grab something to eat. He headed back to the dorm to collect some of his materials for his classes, knowing he needed to study. The notebooks and pens were shoved carelessly into his backpack, followed by a few spare pairs of clothes and a couple toiletries, knowing that he wasn’t going to be coming back to campus tonight. After all, it was Yifan’s first day out of the hospital, and Junmyeon wanted to be there for him. Aside from lending a helping hand, Junmyeon knew that he wasn’t going to achieve any sleep unless he was there in person to make sure Yifan was okay.

At this point, he could practically function on autopilot. Walk across campus, catch the bus, head to the hospital. He busied himself with texting Sehun his plans during the ride so that he wouldn’t be worried, and when the bus came to its stop, Junmyeon hopped out and began his trek into the hospital all over again.

Things were moving smoothly at last. He made it upstairs to Yifan’s room. It was late afternoon, and Luhan had texted him earlier mentioning he would swing by before dark to pick them up from the hospital and give them a lift to Yifan’s apartment. In the meantime, it was last minute preparations. Yifan was still having a lot of difficulty getting dressed by himself. He was still sore and in pain, so shrugging his shirt on one sleeve at a time was a grueling task, especially with how limited his movement was. Unsurprisingly, his head got stuck in the collar, and Junmyeon carefully helped tug the fabric down, biting his lip at the still visible bruising from his surgery, along with the line of heavy stitching running up the base of his spine.

Pants were a little easier, although Yifan had to sit down on the edge of the bed to put them on, since he still didn’t have any balance. Shoes, on the other hand, were a nightmare. Yifan couldn’t bend over, as per the doctor’s orders. And due to the stiffness in his body, and the pain in his back, he couldn’t drag his leg up into his lap either to put his shoes on. After standing there and watching him struggle for what felt like a century, Junmyeon finally took the boot out of Yifan’s hand, ignoring the man’s protests as he squatted down to put it on himself.

He was embarrassed, and Junmyeon knew it, but he was thankful that Yifan at last quit arguing and just let Junmyeon help him.

At last, he was discharged. Junmyeon knew that Yifan was glad to finally have approval from the staff to go home, and if he was being honest with himself, he was thankful too. Although Yifan still had a long way to go in terms of recovery, receiving the okay to finally leave to try to work on recuperating inside his own home was a definite sign he was going to be alright.

“Easy,” Junmyeon coaxed, his forearm gentle yet firm as it looped around Yifan’s upper back to help support his weight. Yifan was still relearning how to walk, and he still had extremely poor balance. With there being no elevator in his apartment building, there was no other option but to take the stairs. Yifan was noticeably struggling, despite how they were taking it slow, and he released a heavy breath as he put his foot forward. One step at a time was all he _could_ do, after all. Junmyeon didn’t dare let go of him, afraid Yifan would fall otherwise, and although Yifan’s muscles were still quite weak, he was slowly making it up the last flight of stairs. Behind them was the sound of Yifan’s walker noisily clattering up the steps as Luhan followed the two of them, carrying the piece of equipment with him. “It’s alright, just take it slow. We’re almost there. Just three more.”

The trio finally headed inside, Luhan bringing up the rear and closing the door behind them. Junmyeon, arm still secured around Yifan’s back, assisted him in crossing the entranceway of the apartment before heading into the living room. Carefully, Junmyeon helped him sit down, biting his lip at the sharp groan of pain Yifan released as he eased down onto the edge of the couch.

“Well, at least I don’t have to worry about you sneaking out of the house and trying to wander off by yourself,” Junmyeon commented, trying to lighten the mood with a joke. “Guess it’s good there isn’t an elevator here, so you’re stuck unless you have help.”

“Even _with_ help, I can barely handle those damn stairs,” Yifan argued, out of breath. Panting, he shuffled back in his seat a little, before gratefully sinking into the couch until his back rested against the cushion behind him. “God, that _hurts.”_

“Didn’t you take your medicine?” Luhan asked, heading across the living room and setting Yifan’s walker on the other side of the arm of the couch, within the man’s reach.

“I took a dose not too long before they let me go, but it doesn’t matter. It still hurts even with the pain meds. The only difference is that it goes from literally unbearable to extremely painful,” Yifan said, huffing and puffing as he tipped his head back against the couch.

“Well, the doctor said the more you move, the stronger your body is going to get, and the quicker you’ll heal,” Junmyeon explained. “It’s just something you’ll have to slowly push through. We can go for walks together when I come by after I’m out of class. I think it’d be good for you.”

“I don’t want to even think about moving right now,” Yifan groaned, still glued in place on the couch.

“Alright, alright, if it hurts, you shouldn’t push it. You should probably get some food into your system right now anyway,” Luhan drawled, inviting himself into Yifan’s kitchen. There was the sound of opening and closing cabinet doors, followed by the clatter of supplies within the fridge door when Luhan pulled it open. Finally, he heard Luhan huff in annoyance. “What do you even eat, Kris? It’s like a barren wasteland in here.”

“Pretty hard to go grocery shopping when you’re in the hospital,” Yifan grumbled from his spot on the couch.

“I’m sure it’s not _that_ bad,” Junmyeon said as he padded after Luhan. “And either way, I’m a broke college student. I’m pretty sure I can figure out some kind of dish based on what you have. Whether or not it’ll be any good is a completely different story, though.”

“If you’re offering to cook for me, who am I to object?” Yifan called rhetorically from the living room. He swung his legs up to let them rest atop of the coffee table, and sighed in content as the pain in his back eased a little.

Luhan, standing next to Junmyeon in the kitchen, let out a gagging sound. “Can you _not_ flirt with each other while I’m still here?”

“My house, my rules,” Yifan drawled, glancing over at Luhan, before unceremoniously sticking his tongue out at him, just like a child.

Junmyeon rolled his eyes as he lugged out a bag of rice that was hiding in the cabinet above Yifan’s stove. He was the youngest one in the room, with a large age gap at that, but as he listened to the two bicker, he felt old beyond his years. He knew that Yifan could be quite overdramatic and childish, but Luhan seemed to be in the same boat. After all, Junmyeon couldn’t think of any other reason for the two professors to be squabbling with one another and calling each other names, followed by a snappy comeback of ‘well it takes one to know one’.

“Junmyeon,” Yifan then called from the living room, his voice loud and practically wailing, like a toddler on the cusp of a tantrum. “Tell Luhan that my cooking does _not_ taste like dirty socks!”

Junmyeon didn’t bother to ask how the two of them had stumbled onto that type of topic in the midst of their argument, and instead shook his head silently to himself, rummaging around in the fridge to see what else he could find.

 _No wonder those two became best friends as teenagers._ Junmyeon bit back a groan at that thought and closed the door of the refrigerator. _They’re both a mess._

* * *

Junmyeon knew that he couldn’t cook very well, so it meant the world to him to see Yifan and Luhan both finish their food without complaint. He couldn’t fight the fluttering of his heart either when Yifan wordlessly extended his empty bowl in Junmyeon’s direction to request seconds.

There was plenty of work to be done regarding Luhan’s and Yifan’s friendship, but Junmyeon was thankful that they didn’t rip each other’s heads off at least.

Overall, the visit had gone well, which was what Junmyeon had initially been worried about, as he had seen the aftermath of what could happen when Yifan and Luhan got into arguments. After the history of their friendship, coupled with all the ongoing drama in his world presently, Junmyeon was thankful for even a bit of peace.

Yifan later complained that he was tired, so as he dozed off and took a nap on the couch, Junmyeon and Luhan headed back downstairs and to Luhan’s car to head out to the grocery store. Junmyeon had suggested for them to snag Yifan’s wallet on the way out, but Luhan shooed him away, offering to pay himself. Junmyeon typically used the bus to get around, seeing how it was connected to campus, but having another person around to help him, along with a car to put his things into so he wouldn’t be stuck lugging everything around, well, it was a nice change of pace. With Yifan unable to leave the house unless he had help, Junmyeon made sure to pick out plenty of food for him so that he wouldn’t run out in the middle of the week. A lot of his choices weren’t exactly healthy, but the nurses had already warned him that Yifan wasn’t going to have much energy right after his surgery, let alone enough strength to try to cook elaborate meals for himself.

Unsurprisingly, with it being the weekend, Junmyeon decided to spend the night. As dusk fell and Luhan excused himself, Junmyeon didn’t bother to leave. In a way, it was amusing to him. Initially, he had felt so uncomfortable inside of Yifan’s apartment, like he was overstaying his welcome, but now it just felt so _right_ to be nestled within the four walls of Yifan’s home.

Yifan didn’t seem to mind either, which was the best part, in Junmyeon’s eyes.

He was thankful that Yifan had his surgery finished. Aside from the obvious of it helping with his back problems, a lot of other issues already seemed to be beginning to clear up because of it as well. For example, Junmyeon could not recall a time where Yifan had crawled into bed to sleep early, and yet, there they were, sharing Yifan’s mattress.

Aside from the soft glow emitting from the lamp on Yifan’s nightstand, the room was dark. Yifan was low on energy, and Junmyeon had mentioned that he needed to study, so there they were, nestled in Yifan’s bedroom. Junmyeon had suggested the couch, but Yifan had rejected the notion, saying he wanted to lie down. Junmyeon didn’t have a problem joining him, sitting up on one side of the bed and surrounded by an assortment of notebooks, pens, and highlighters. Yifan, on the other hand, was lying flat of his back, aside from a couple pillows helping him stay propped up, to avoid too much weight settling against his still healing incision. He was holding one of Junmyeon’s notebooks in long fingers, sleepily helping Junmyeon study by taking him through an array of questions based upon his notes.

“Well, and the key difference between the two is how they move from one concentration to another,” Junmyeon rambled, currently answering one of Yifan’s questions. “For example, osmosis is more of a—”

However, Junmyeon was interrupted, and he lifted his gaze from where he had been staring at the sheets to instead look at Yifan. Still holding the notebook in his hands, Yifan had fallen asleep, lips slightly parted and chest falling with deep, steady breaths.

Yifan then released another soft snore, and Junmyeon smiled absently to himself. Yifan really was tired. Junmyeon could only guess that finally being at home again and back in his own bed was enough to soothe his mind and provide enough comfort to lull him to sleep.

Leaning over, Junmyeon carefully began to uncurl Yifan’s fingers from the notebook, trying his hardest not to accidentally awaken Yifan in the process. Thankfully, he seemed to be successful. He pried the notebook away, and Yifan’s eyes remained shut.

Junmyeon paused for a moment, taking some time to study the man’s appearance. He was glad to see that Yifan seemed to be in at least a little less pain. Junmyeon could easily recall the pinched state of his brow when he had seen him snoozing in his hospital bed. His hair was a mess, damp from his shower, and strewn every which way. Junmyeon could see the shape of his chest riding and falling beneath his t-shirt, the gray of its fabric matching the stripes that crawled up the sides of his baggy sweatpants.

Junmyeon then glanced down and checked his watch. Nine thirty-seven PM. He couldn’t ever think of a time that Yifan had fallen asleep so early in the evening; it was always long past midnight when he finally became dead to the world. Regardless, Junmyeon grinned as he began to flip through the pages of his notebook, intending to study on his own.

Well, there was certainly nothing wrong with setting a new personal record for earliest bedtime.

* * *

In a matter of days, Junmyeon’s world had been flipped upside down. Snow, canceled classes, Yifan’s accident, his back surgery, the explosion within Luhan’s and Yifan’s friendship, followed by their agreement to try to start anew…that was all the tip of the iceberg. Things had only become more chaotic since then. For example, he was woken up at four in the morning by Yifan literally _howling_ in agony because he had forgotten to take his pain medication before he had fallen asleep. That had definitely spooked him to the point he was sure a few minutes had been shaven off of his lifespan.

With Yifan isolated in his apartment, unable to leave without assistance, Junmyeon knew he was going to have to pull a lot of extra weight to try to help him. On Sunday, he had helped Yifan out around the house a bit. Together, they cooked lunch, did a load of laundry, and under Junmyeon’s watchful gaze, they went for a walk. It was a bit difficult, getting up and down the stairs. Yifan didn’t have enough balance or strength to support himself yet, so Junmyeon was careful to stand beside him, letting Yifan use both the handrail and Junmyeon’s shoulder so that he wouldn’t fall. The walker clattered noisily behind them as Junmyeon dragged it along with his free hand. The trip itself wasn’t a long one, but Junmyeon knew that Yifan would slowly work up to longer distances over time.

Otherwise, Junmyeon knew things were only going to become more dizzying. Despite how he was taking it upon himself to help take care of Yifan, he knew the world wasn’t going to slow down or stop for him. He still had classes and a life of his own. With the semester nearly over, his assignments and final projects were beginning to pile up, not to mention the fact that finals were looming over his head. Even Yifan’s lecture had started back that Monday. Since the semester was nearly over, Junmyeon was doubtful that they were going to try to find someone permanent to fill Yifan’s spot while he was out on medical leave. At least, that was his assumption. After all, another art professor from the art department had filled in for him on Monday, so maybe that was going to be how it was until the end of the course. Junmyeon didn’t know, and he didn’t bother to think much about it.

He needed to focus, but Yifan definitely wasn’t helping. In fact, he was sure that ever since he had surgery, this was the most Yifan had ever texted him. It was completely random, and Junmyeon figured Yifan must have been napping the day away again, but when he was up and about, the texts were constant. Yifan complaining he was bored, Yifan asking him what he was doing, Yifan asking him when he was coming back to visit, Yifan asking him if he could cook him dinner. Junmyeon was actually starting to get annoyed.

_Yifan (1:23 PM)  
I’m so bored :-(_

_Junmyeon (1:26 PM)_  
Yifan, I’m not here to babysit you…  
Find something to do to keep yourself busy.

 _Yifan (1:27 PM)_  
I don’t really know how to keep myself busy.  
I’ve never had this much free time…  
It feels weird as hell.  
And it’s so quiet. It’s TOO quiet.

 _Junmyeon (1:30 PM)_  
I’ll be over there later after I’m done with classes.  
We can talk then, okay?  
Turn on your TV so you can get some background noise.

 _Yifan (1:31 PM)_  
It’s not that. It’s like…  
I think I got too used to you being here all the time.

_Junmyeon (1:33 PM)  
You’re lonely, aren’t you?_

_Yifan (1:35 PM)_  
:^ / Are you really gonna make me admit it…  
Okay. Fine. Yeah. I’m lonely.  
I miss you.

_Junmyeon (1:38 PM)  
You’re so overdramatic. You just saw me this morning, lol._

_Yifan (1:40 PM)_  
But I do miss you. Like I said, I got too used to you being here.  
It’s so quiet here without you, in a bad way.  
Please feel sorry for me, I want a kiss for compensation when you get here.  
Anddd maybe something more, if you’re up for it.  
Since, ya know. I really miss you.

 _Junmyeon (1:42 PM)_  
Uh? I miss you too.  
What more do you want?  
A hug?

_Yifan (1:44 PM)  
Something more physical…_

_Junmyeon (1:45 PM)  
Hugs are physical!_

_Yifan (1:47 PM)_  
…  
Oh, Christ, you’re so cute.

 _Junmyeon (1:50 PM)_  
??? Wait what’re you talking about?  
What’s going on I’m confused :-(

 _Yifan (1:52 PM)_  
I’m literally wheezing from laughing rn holy shit.  
You know what? Don’t even worry about it.  
You’ll find out when you get home.  
I love you ;-)

And there, at the end of the text, was a line of emojis. Junmyeon frowned, pausing in chewing his lunch to study the little stickers in confusion. He didn’t understand. Was this some kind of secret code? A finger pointing sideways, an OK hand sign, some kind of weird water droplets, and three eggplants.

“What the hell does that even mean?” Junmyeon muttered under his breath, completely lost. After a few grueling minutes of not understanding, he groaned, and switched his phone off before focusing his attention back onto his food. “He’s so weird.”

* * *

When Junmyeon ascended the stairs of Yifan’s apartment building later that evening, he wasn’t sure as to what was waiting for him. After that weird conversation at lunchtime, he knew something was up, but Junmyeon didn’t know what to expect. However, as he stood outside of Yifan’s front door and began to slowly insert the spare key Yifan had given him into the lock, the sight that greeted him was highly anticlimactic.

There, on the couch, was Yifan, fast asleep.

Junmyeon paused in the doorway, letting out a small _tsk_ under his breath as he proceeded to step inside, toeing his shoes off and closing the door behind himself. He shed his backpack next, setting it down, before removing his coat. He then began to cross the apartment to head into the living room, pursing his lips as he approached Yifan. He shook his head silently to himself. It seemed like all Yifan was doing lately was sleep. Junmyeon knew he needed rest to recover, but laying around _this_ much seemed to be a little excessive.

The TV was mumbling out the local news. Junmyeon plucked the remote off the coffee table to switch it off, before turning his attention to Yifan. He was cast out on his back on the couch, a blanket swaddled around his waist, his glasses having slid halfway down his nose. There was an assortment of colored pencils around him, some wedged in the folds of the blanket, others having rolled off and onto the carpet. Yifan was still loosely gripping a pencil in his hand, and atop of his chest, back cover facing Junmyeon, was a sketchbook.

Junmyeon began to carefully collect the pencils and instead moved them to the coffee table. He then reached out and, trying his hardest not to awaken Yifan in the process, he slowly maneuvered the sketchbook off of his chest. He was about to merely set it down on the table as well, but curiosity got the best of him, and he looked.

And his breath immediately died in his throat.

Staring down at the pages, Junmyeon found himself not only frozen, but in complete disbelief, because he knew that by studying the sketches upon the pages, that Yifan had been drawing _him._ The entire page was filled with sketched headshots of him, some in only pencil, some shaded, some in colored pencil. He wasn’t blind to the way that in every sketch, Yifan had paid immense attention to the small details, having shaded his cheeks in lightly with pencil or a soft shade of pink, and had started working on filling in his hair as well.

He was so focused on the sketchbook that he never noticed Yifan stirring on the couch.

“Hey—” Yifan’s voice suddenly started, groggy, and Junmyeon jumped, quickly snapping his head downwards to stare at him. Yifan propped himself up onto his elbows as fast as he could, looking panicked. Cheeks colored a rather interesting shade of pink, Yifan sat up and proceeded to snatch the sketchbook away, holding it to his chest. “That’s—That’s _mine_! You can’t just—”

Junmyeon interrupted Yifan’s embarrassed ramblings with a soft voice, “you drew me?”

Yifan’s eyebrows furrowed together, cheeks still flushed, a slow scowl forming on his face. “You aren’t…creeped out?”

“No! Of course not. I’m just surprised,” Junmyeon said slowly, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. “Is that what you were doing today? I never expected for you to draw me, of all things. The sketches looked really nice…”

Forcing out a rather awkward cough, Yifan lowered the sketchbook for only a second in order to slam the cover shut. He then, now sitting up straight, shuffled closer to the edge of the couch so that he could set his sketchbook aside and onto the coffee table. He then took his glasses off and set them aside too. “Like I said, I’ve been bored. And I missed you. So…”

“Too tired to work on anything else?” Junmyeon hummed out curiously, seating himself on the couch next to Yifan. “You’re being awfully clingy ever since you got your surgery.”

Yifan huffed from beside him, scooching closer to Junmyeon, long legs dangling over the edge of the couch. “Like I said, I got too used to you being here.”

“You make it sound as if I’ve left you alone for days and don’t ever bother to— _mmph—”_ It was Yifan’s lips suddenly crashing against his own that silenced him. Junmyeon, stunned, merely sat there for a moment, trying to process what was happening. Yifan didn’t let up either, his mouth moving in bruising kisses against Junmyeon’s own, his hands wandering to paw at Junmyeon’s hipbones, curling his fingers around the curve of them.

“God, I missed you,” Yifan murmured, his voice wavering and a borderline gasp in between their kisses. Junmyeon couldn’t hold back the whine that echoed in the back of his throat when Yifan peppered playful nips and teasing kisses along the underside of his jaw and down his neck. “You’ve been on my mind all _fucking_ day, you know that?”

As Yifan’s hands began to slide inward, moving slowly from their spot on his hips to instead trace the taut skin of his stomach, tapered fingers crawling up the hem of his shirt, something finally clicked in Junmyeon’s brain.

“ _That’s_ what you meant earlier?” he spluttered, his fingers shooting down to quickly grab Yifan’s wrists and hold his hands still. His face was turning red, both in embarrassment and realization. “You’ve had your mind in the gutter this entire time! You couldn’t do anything else today but nap and fantasize?”

Yifan huffed, and Junmyeon could feel his cheeks getting hotter. Yifan’s face was way too close to his own, his _lips_ far too close to his own.

“I’m an artist.” He could feel the pads of Yifan’s thumbs tracing featherlight circles over his skin. “We have some pretty active imaginations at times.”

“Yifan—No,” Junmyeon said quickly, putting more force into his arms and maneuvering Yifan’s hands down and out from underneath his top. “We are _not_ having—doing… _that._ You’re still recovering from a major surgery, on your _back_ , no less. There’s no way you’re ready for something like that yet.”

Displeased, Yifan’s eyes narrowed a bit, his voice raspy. “Junmyeon…”

“ _No,_ Yifan,” Junmyeon repeated sternly. He was quick to notice the crestfallen look on Yifan’s face, and he bit his lip, actually feeling a little guilty. It was obvious that it had been something Yifan had been wanting all day and Junmyeon hated shooting him down, but it was for the best. “It’s not that I don’t want to. Or want to make you deprived, or… Or _something._ We just _can’t._ You’ll hurt yourself. Your back isn’t fused properly yet. _”_

“Can I at least, just…” Yifan started once more, his hands reaching out once more, greedy as always at they circled around Junmyeon’s waist for the second time. “Can I touch?”

He nearly asked _touch what_ in response to that, but noticing the desire starting to glaze over Yifan’s eyes, Junmyeon had a pretty good guess. Uncertain, Junmyeon merely nodded hesitantly, his gasp startled as Yifan pounced on him all over again, kissing him like he wouldn’t ever have a second chance.

“Yifan,” Junmyeon rasped, sucking in a sharp breath in between rough kisses. Yifan merely hummed low in his throat in questioning, his teeth scraping against the skin of Junmyeon’s neck. He could feel Yifan’s hands moving again, one daringly moving a little further south, tracing the inside of his thigh through the fabric of his jeans. “Yifan, we _can’t—_ Your back—”

“I know. I know,” Yifan rambled, voice clipped and chest rising and falling harshly beneath his shirt. Junmyeon flicked his eyes downward, biting his lip. Yifan was getting hard already, showing obscenely through the material of his sweatpants, and it brought a chill down Junmyeon’s spine. It wasn’t like he could forget what happened last time Yifan got so swollen, and Junmyeon swallowed, trying to will away the memories of Yifan bending over him, pressing inside of him, squeezing between his thighs. There was a distinct twitch between his legs and Junmyeon _whimpered_ against Yifan’s mouth as the man kissed the air out of him. His jeans suddenly felt tighter. The air was warmer. Yifan huffed, low in his throat, sucking roughly on the skin where he could feel Junmyeon’s pulse pounding away beneath it. “I’m not going to, I just—Let me touch you—I’ll take care of us both, okay?”

Junmyeon didn’t know what to expect, or what he was getting into at all, but if Yifan promised he wasn’t going to fuck him, then maybe he could give the man a bit of leeway. The minutes were starting to drag on regardless, and Junmyeon found his breathing already labored, the clamminess of sweat on his skin as Yifan kissed him, his large hands tracing patterns on the inside of his legs and palming at his crotch.

“Fuck, Junmyeon… How am I supposed to tease you when you’re already this turned on?” Yifan groaned, palm of his hand rubbing Junmyeon through his jeans. “Here, closer. I need you on my lap—”

With some awkward maneuvering, Junmyeon obeyed him. Yifan had sunken into the couch cushions, still sitting up, to provide some extra support for his back and to prevent himself from moving. Junmyeon clambered up onto his lap as instructed, legs dangling off each side of Yifan’s thighs as Junmyeon faced him. He was unsure of what to do with his hands, and carefully let them rest on Yifan’s chest, able to feel the pounding of the man’s heart.

As soon as Junmyeon parked himself in place, Yifan, with labored breathing, immediately let his hands wander to the front of Junmyeon’s pants. Junmyeon inhaled shakily then, watching Yifan roughly unbutton his jeans before tearing the zipper down, and then yanking the fabric down. The jeans slid down his thighs, halfway, and Yifan was definitely wasting no time on touching him. Junmyeon’s back arched as Yifan cupped him through his underwear. The squeeze was temporary, as was Junmyeon’s resulting moan, but right after, Yifan daringly hooked his fingers into the elastic, and pulled. Junmyeon could feel his cheeks threatening to redden in embarrassment, both watching and feeling his dick rise, now that there was nothing to restrain it.

“God, look at you, you’re so hard,” Yifan grunted, reaching down between them. Yifan’s hand went for the waistband of his own pants then, managing to slide them, and his underwear, down just enough to free himself. Junmyeon swallowed, goose bumps prickling his arms as he watched Yifan wrap a hand around himself, careful not to move his back as he jerked rough and fast to get himself harder. Junmyeon was completely frozen then, biting his lip and eyes wide as he watched it swell, partially in disbelief that he had taken something so large the first time he had sex. Yifan didn’t seem to notice his gaze though, still giving his dick a few experimental tugs to get himself as hard as he could. “You’re already leaking, look at yourself. You’re so cute, Junmyeon, so— _mm, mhm –_ you’re _so_ cute—”

Unsure of where Yifan was taking them, Junmyeon couldn’t hold back a yelp of surprise when Yifan suddenly reached down with one hand, and grabbed his cock. There was a brief moment of adjusting, Junmyeon awkwardly scooting closer, as Yifan widened the ring of his fingers, wedging his own dick inside as well, right up against Junmyeon’s own.

Yifan really hadn’t been exaggerating when he had mentioned that he was going to take care of them both.

“Use your hips,” Yifan said, voice hoarse as he began to move his hand up and down, successfully jerking them off together. Junmyeon was hesitant at first, but he eventually decided to obey, clasping his hands tightly on Yifan’s thighs as he cautiously rocked his hips back and forth. His teeth sank down on his lower lip, trying not to moan at the feeling, the sensation of his dick rubbing against Yifan’s own as the older man’s hand jerked them off. It wasn’t a smooth glide, as they weren’t using any lube, but the way Yifan was using his thumb to smear precum down the shaft was making it a little easier. Still, despite it, it wasn’t bad; it felt good, the sensation of it, the feel of another man’s hand wrapped around him and the curve of his cock rubbing against his own as Junmyeon rutted up against him. “Okay?”

 _“Yes,”_ Junmyeon nearly groaned, his voice breathy with arousal. He was the one doing most of the work; Yifan was immobile for the most part because of his back, so it was up to Junmyeon to keep his hips moving, rocking back and forth. Yifan seemed to be getting off on it just as much as he was, his groans low and nearly rumbling from the depths of his chest.

Junmyeon could eventually feel the telltale signs of orgasm creeping up on him. His thighs started quivering, and it wasn’t long after that he burst, his voice nothing more but a gasping whimper, watching through barely-open eyes as his seed came free, messily coating Yifan’s still-moving fist and dripping onto his sweatpants.

But nothing shocked him more than when Yifan suddenly moaned, low and long, as he came, sending a spurt of cum right in Junmyeon’s direction and up the front of his shirt.

“ _Fuck,”_ Yifan groaned, biting his lip, pearls of white dribbling from the head of his cock as he tipped his head back, letting it rest against the cushion behind him. He was panting for breath, at last letting go and instead resting his hands lifelessly on his abdomen, not seeming to have a care in the world that he was getting cum on his shirt. “You okay?”

“I’m fine… Shouldn’t I be asking _you_ that?” Junmyeon asked, frowning worriedly.

“I guess,” Yifan panted, out of breath and practically a puddle on the couch. “Don’t remember the last time I came that hard. _Shit.”_

“At least we know you didn’t screw your back up from moving around too much or anything. You probably just exhausted yourself,” Junmyeon murmured, carefully trying to climb off of Yifan’s lap now. “I’ll get a washcloth. And, um, I guess a change of clothes. We made a mess.”

Yifan didn’t respond, too busy trying to suck some needed oxygen into his lungs to formulate a reply regardless. So Junmyeon did as promised, scurrying across the apartment in search of a rag and some clothes. When he came back, Yifan was already half-asleep, letting Junmyeon baby him by wiping him off.

But upon seeing that dopey, fucked-out smile on Yifan’s face, Junmyeon found that he didn’t mind.

* * *

Junmyeon had to admit, he was a little worried. Even as the week began to progress, overall, Yifan didn’t seem to be improving much. Sure, his body was slowly getting stronger. Taking the stairs up and down from his apartment was getting a bit easier, and when they went for their evening walks, Yifan was able to go a couple extra steps each day. However, even though his endurance and strength and balance were beginning to improve, little by little, Yifan overall seemed to be getting worse. He was beginning to grow cranky. Junmyeon wasn’t quite sure why, other than his assumption that Yifan may have just been frustrated due to how he was isolated at home all the time. But on top of it, Yifan still didn’t seem to have any energy. All he seemed to do was sleep and his appetite seemed to be fading.

Sure, Yifan had been tired the other day, but at least he seemed to be in a relatively good mood. Junmyeon could handle Yifan being clingy much better than a cranky Yifan. Yesterday, though, the two of them had gotten into an argument. Junmyeon had only been worried, but now that everything had blown over, he thought that perhaps he had come off a little too strongly. When he had stopped by the apartment, he, as usual, found Yifan snoozing the day away. Junmyeon had commented on it, mentioning that it wasn’t normal for him to be so tired. Yifan, however, already seemed to be in a bad mood, and things had spiraled downhill from there.

_“What do you want me to do?” Yifan snapped. “I can’t help it!”_

_“What’s the matter with you? Don’t get an attitude or defensive,” Junmyeon argued, frustration painting his voice. “Yifan, look, I’m not trying to argue with you, I’m just pointing something out—”_

_“That’s all you’ve talked about for days now is how I just sleep all day and don’t do anything! I get it. Don’t you think I’ve realized that I’m pretty much just some corpse on my couch?” Yifan said, sounding highly annoyed now too. “It sucks, and I hate it, but it’s not my fault. All I do is sleep and it still feels like I haven’t slept at all. We’re both tired and stressed out, and I know I’m getting on your nerves, but god, it’s on mine too. I can’t do anything anymore.”_

_Trying not to take the outburst to heart, Junmyeon frowned, forehead creasing beneath his mess of red hair. “I don’t understand… Yifan, you’re still capable of doing things. You still have to finish healing, but the surgery hasn’t disabled you. Well, not permanently. I know there are some things you can’t do right now since your back is still unstable…”_

_“That’s my point. I miss riding my motorcycle, among other things, but I can go without that for now. It’s just frustrating, knowing I have limited options. I can’t even paint. The stool has no support. I can’t sit like that anymore either. It hurts too badly. Hell, I can’t even draw. I can’t cook. I can’t do anything. I’m so tired all the time and I just feel sluggish and all jittery if I sit still for too long,” Yifan rambled, sighing in frustration as he dragged his hands down his face. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I know it’s not your fault. I’m just really aggravated at myself.”_

_Junmyeon sighed softly through his nose, reaching out and letting his hand rest atop of Yifan’s upper back, palm tracing over the shape of his shoulder. “Maybe you should call the doctor in the morning. I don’t think this is normal.”_

_“I will. I have to. I don’t know how much longer I can deal with it,” Yifan admitted, voice muffled behind his hands. “And I’m just so angry at myself that I can’t just suck it up and try to work on things. It takes too much energy that I don’t have right now, and I hate it. I wanted to work on my paintings, and I can’t, and this is the worst possible time for something like this to happen.”_

_“Why?” Junmyeon murmured, still rubbing Yifan’s back gently._

_“I wanted to finish my newest painting by the end of the semester. That’s in less than three weeks. I won’t be able to make it on time. The art department always has an exhibition before the holidays, and I wanted to participate, but…” Yifan trailed off, dropping his hands, eyes on the carpet. “It’s whatever, I guess.”_

It was truly troublesome and weighing heavily on Junmyeon’s brain. Although he was tired and stressed, both from school and from trying to help Yifan, he could tell Yifan was having a hard time too. It was starting to click into place, knowing that Yifan was only acting so clingy because he was lonely from being in his apartment by himself all day. He was so irritable because of the fatigue. He was frustrated and upset at himself, and although it was a rare occurrence, it still bothered Junmyeon greatly to hear Yifan be so hard on himself, or to simply dismiss something to just throw in the towel. It wasn’t like Yifan to give up so easily, especially regarding something like his artwork.

He seemed to be losing his spark, and Junmyeon wanted to help get it back.

That afternoon, he stopped by Luhan’s office. The two had been talking about Yifan’s progress when Junmyeon had received a text from Yifan, apologizing to Luhan as he checked his phone.

Thankfully, it wasn’t all bad news.

_‘I called the hospital. They put in an order for me to get my pain pills changed. They think I’m so tired because of the meds. Apparently they might be building up too high in my system, or something. So we’ll see. Hope you’re not mad at me about last night. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.’_

It was a relief, knowing it wasn’t something worse, but still, Junmyeon hoped the situation could get cleared away entirely before it became too severe. With that out of the way, knowing Yifan was okay, it was a bit easier to focus on his conversation with Luhan. He filled the professor in with what was happening, before bringing up his next concern, and that was how Yifan was so bummed out about the art show.

_“Isn’t there something we can do to help him?” Junmyeon offered, fidgeting as he sat in the chair across from Luhan’s desk. “I mean, he has tons of other paintings… If I somehow managed to sneak one out of his apartment, or if you did, would you be able to submit it to the art show for him?”_

_“Sounds crazy, but I don’t think it’s impossible,” Luhan hummed, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “I mean, he’s out on medical leave, so I doubt anyone will have any arguments about it.”_

Now that Luhan had agreed to give his plan a test run, Junmyeon had one more topic pressing down on his brain. It felt like his mind was too full and too stressed. He already had to juggle class, his projects, helping out Yifan, upcoming finals, and now this secret mission on top of it. Either Yifan’s crankiness was rubbing off on him, or the stress was just making him more irritable, because as he sat there in the dining hall with his friends, he felt downright annoyed.

Maybe all he truly needed was some peace and quiet. He wasn’t getting that though. He went from class and listening to lectures, to the noisy dining hall to eat, to more classes, to Yifan’s and listening to him talk and whine, then to his dorm, and listening to Sehun chatter to him. All of the chatter and business definitely wasn’t helping his stress levels in the slightest.

And the fact that his table was buzzing with gossip wasn’t helping matters either.

“I still don’t know how they expect us to keep up with our dance recital practice when the instructor is going to be out for the rest of the week,” Sehun complained, propping his chin up in one hand and letting his elbows rest on the table as he picked at his food. “It’s so frustrating.”

“Tell me about it. Kris is out and now we have another art professor filling in for him. The projects don’t stop even then,” Yixing said with a sigh. “Apparently Kris is out on medical leave, or so I’ve heard. Some of the art staff were talking about it in a department meeting when we got out of class. You’d think they would remember how to close the door if they’re going to talk about a colleague like that.”

Junmyeon loved Zitao, of course he did, but he wasn’t fond of how his friend practically fed on drama and gossip. As soon as Yixing made that comment, Zitao’s eyes lit up, leaning forward with interest.

“Well, you know what happened, right?” Zitao then blabbered, far too eager. “He screwed up his back.”

Junmyeon nearly choked on his water right then and there, though thankfully, no one seemed to notice.

“Really? How do you know?” Jongin piped up from the opposite end of the table, giving his roommate a suspicious glance.

“Psh, the details aren’t important, but if you _must_ know,” Zitao rambled, “this girl in my math lecture has a friend that works at the hospital on the weekends. She saw him getting checked out. The dude has a walker and everything! And get _this:_ Luhan was there.”

“From the history department?” Jongin asked, blinking in surprise, accompanied by Zitao’s furious nodding. Even Yixing had perked up with interest. Junmyeon was thankful that Jongdae hadn’t been joining them for meals anymore after he and Zitao had gotten into a fight; he was sure the boy’s loud voice wouldn’t be helping this matter at _all._ Still, this wasn’t good. Junmyeon swallowed nervously, stealing a helpless glance at Sehun, unsure as to where the conversation was going. “I didn’t think they were that close…”

“See, that’s the best part! Everyone has been saying those two used to be friends back in the day, but I always thought they hated each other. It’s crazy,” Zitao said excitedly. “Still, can you believe it? I wonder what landed him in the hospital. You think he got in another car wreck?”

“We probably would’ve heard about it if that was the case,” Yixing commented, pursing his lips, noticing out of the corner of his eye how stiff Junmyeon suddenly seemed.

“Yeah, that’s true. Still, I wanna know what happened. I’m nosey,” Zitao drawled, cupping his cheeks in his hands as he propped his elbows up on the tabletop, mirroring Sehun. “But think of it this way, if he was admitted to the hospital for whatever happened, and missed school because of it, it must have really fucked him up.”

“Not necessarily,” Sehun argued weakly, trying his hardest to come to both Yifan’s defense, for his sake and Junmyeon’s, but to try to steer the topic away from the art professor entirely.

However, he wasn’t successful, and Zitao kept right on going.

“Of course it was. Dude, he missed like a week of classes, and was checked into the hospital. Something bad must have happened to him. You’ve seen him around! He can barely walk. Either he broke something or had some kind of procedure done,” Zitao said. “Either way, he’s out on medical leave. I doubt he’ll be back for the rest of the semester. If it’s bad enough, he might not ever come back. I doubt anyone here would give a damn anyway, but hey, is what it is. Maybe this is just his karma.”

In a matter of seconds, a slew of voices bombarded Junmyeon’s brain.

He could hear the heartbroken murmurs of Yifan. _I’m still human, regardless of how people label me._

He could hear the snarl of his father. _Perhaps this is your punishment for being so disrespectful._

And he could hear Yifan’s voice, being the only thing back then that kept him grounded.

_You really need to stand up for yourself better and stop overthinking everything._

_Maybe one of these days I’ll get to see you grow a stronger backbone._

And it was then that he felt something deep inside of him snap in two.

The remaining boys at the table all jumped in unison when Junmyeon suddenly slammed him silverware down onto his tray.

“We’re going to talk about something else,” Junmyeon then announced. It was a statement, not a question, nor a request. “This is getting ridiculous.”

Sehun, across from him, paled a little in realization, and quickly opened his mouth to try to say something, but Zitao didn’t give him a chance.

“What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” Zitao then asked, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “You’re always like this, Junmyeon. You’ve been like this all semester.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me not wanting to sit around and gossip about other people,” Junmyeon snapped, his vision tunneling, and in a rare moment of anger, he could only see red. Enough was enough. “I don’t _get_ it. Why do you and so many other people at this school love to talk so much trash about other people? People that have done nothing to you, no less!”

Junmyeon’s voice was getting louder. He didn’t notice, nor did he care. The people at the table beside him were staring. Sehun looked on the verge of a cold sweat. Yixing and Jongin were stunned, silent. And after a moment of blinking, Zitao regathered his wits, snapping right back at Junmyeon.

“And why are you sitting here defending him?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “He’s just your professor. It’s not like you actually know him. No one does.”

“It doesn’t matter if I know someone or not. It isn’t right, letting people drag their name through the mud when they have no say in it,” Junmyeon said, voice tense.

“And what if it’s all true?” Zitao asked, merely cocking an eyebrow, lips pursing. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. No professor is perfect, and Kris is the furthest from it that you can get. Face it, Junmyeon, people love to talk shit about him because he’s a shitty human being—”

“Stop _talking_ about him like that!” Junmyeon shouted, completely losing it now as he banged a fist against the table, empty dishes rattling upon its surface. “You don’t even know him! _None_ of you know him like I know him. Do you have any idea of how much of an asshole you and all these other people who talk about him are? To just gossip and spread rumors about him with no basis for it? He doesn’t deserve it, he’s _never_ deserved it! He’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever _met_ and I’m _not_ going to sit here and listen to you talk shit about someone I love like that!”

As he quieted, Junmyeon only then realized how quiet it had grown, and, with a sinking heart, staring back at the shocked faces that surrounded him, it clicked inside of his head what he had just confessed.

His stomach immediately sank.

“You’re in love with him,” Yixing suddenly blurted, eyes wide, visibly still reeling from what he had just heard. “You’re in _love_ with him?”

“Are—” Jongin spluttered, “are you _dating_ him?”

There was no escape. Junmyeon could hear the voices roaring to life around him, like little demons on his shoulders, whispering into his ears.

The world knew his secret.

_“Did you hear that? He was talking about Kris, didn’t you hear it?” “How old is he? He looks so young. That’s disgusting. Kris is, what, in his thirties?” “I bet you he’s only of the only people in the class that has decent grades. Probably paid for them in sex.” “He’s so naïve! As if Kris has the capacity to love anyone. Poor kid is being used.”_

Even Zitao was staring back at him with a mixture of shock and disgust.

Tears stung his eyes. Tears of shame, embarrassment, shock, hurt, regret. Missing how Sehun started to stand up in an attempt of comforting him, Junmyeon leapt to his feet, cracking his knee on the underside of the table in the process. He frantically grabbed his backpack, not bothering to pick up his tray of only half-eaten food.

He ran as fast as he could, desperate for an escape. He plowed roughly into the heavy cafeteria doors and went tumbling out, sprinting through the building until he made it outside. And he didn’t stop then either, dodging past stragglers on the cold sidewalk, his breath coming in rough pants as he desperately charged for the bus stop. Tears already began to drip free from his eyes, and he felt the cries building in the back of his throat.

Halfway down the sidewalk, he stopped, bowing his head as he began to sob.

_What have I done?_


	31. Solvent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _[ SOLVENT ]  
>  a substance capable of dissolving another material. In painting, the solvent is a liquid that thins the paint._
> 
> A/N: Due to length, I've cut some things to put in an additional chapter. The fic has therefore been extended to 32 chapters

This was a nightmare.

Junmyeon’s hands felt abnormally cold and stiff as he fitted the spare key into the lock of Yifan’s apartment door. It wasn’t because of the weather. It was due to fear.

He pushed the door open slowly and shuffled inside, numbly dropping his bag onto the floor before removing his shoes. He internally cursed his luck. Of course, the one time he had been hoping for Yifan to be napping, he was actually awake. From his spot in the kitchen, Yifan’s head poked out from around the corner. There was a half-eaten sandwich in his hand.

“You’re early,” Yifan then announced, lips tugging heavenward in a smile. “You must have missed me.”

When Junmyeon didn’t respond, merely standing there in the entranceway with a devastated look on his face, Yifan’s own expression began to fall.

“What’s the matter?” Yifan asked, setting his food down on a plate. He wiped his hand off carelessly on his shirt as he began to cross the apartment. He came to a stop in front of Junmyeon, brow furrowing in a mixture of concern and confusion as he reached out and curled his fingers beneath the curve of Junmyeon’s chin, raising his head slightly. “Look at me… Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?”

As if on command, Junmyeon’s eyes began to water. His voice was nothing more than a croak. “I need to tell you something.”

There was bewilderment and worry swirling in Yifan’s eyes as he nodded slowly, clearly not following, and it only made Junmyeon feel worse.

“I screwed up,” Junmyeon whispered, his chest violently jumping as he released a loud hiccup, trying not to cry. “I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t, it just came out—”

“Wait, wait,” Yifan fussed, frowning as he swiped his thumb over Junmyeon’s cheek, rubbing away a stray tear. “What in the world are you talking about?”

Junmyeon’s throat bobbed pathetically, a new wave of tears threatening to fall, pooling along the rims of his eyes. “They—They know.”

Yifan merely blinked at first, not seeming to comprehend, before it hit him. Eyes widening, his hands slowly dropped from their place against Junmyeon’s skin to instead dangle lifelessly at his sides. “ _What?”_

“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon whispered, bowing his head in shame, shoulders trembling pathetically as he tried to hold himself together. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I got into an argument and I just… I-I was too angry to think properly and it just came out. I’m so sorry—”

“Stop. Don’t apologize. I know it was an accident,” Yifan murmured, interrupting him. He sighed, slow and deep, as he reached out to accept Junmyeon into his arms, giving him a much-needed hug. “Accidents happen, Junmyeon. It’s alright. I’m not mad at you.”

“Why not? You should be. I screwed up _royally_ , don’t you get it?” Junmyeon asked, sniffling as he leaned his skull against Yifan’s body, forehead pressing into his shoulder. He hooked his fingers into Yifan’s shirt, feeling the man’s hands cautiously sliding up his back to tug him closer. “This is going to end in disaster, and it’s all my fault.”

Despite the worry in his eyes, Yifan merely sighed, once more, through his nose as he patted Junmyeon on the back. “There’s no guaranteed path for this to take. It’s already said and done, so stop beating yourself up over it.”

Junmyeon peeked up at him then, looking like he was on the cusp of a meltdown. “Are… Are they going to fire you?”

Yifan winced, eyes briefly drifting to one side to show he wasn’t sure. The thought, however, had already crossed his mind. His responding shrug was small and stiff. “I don’t know. Depends on whether or not it gets to the wrong people and if they launch an investigation, along with what kind of details they gather in the process.”

The color was visibly draining from Junmyeon’s cheeks. “I-Investigation?”

“Right. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was one. You’re enrolled in my class, after all; more than likely they’re going to dig to make sure I haven’t been giving you certain grades simply because I’m in a relationship with you,” Yifan explained. “Not that it really matters on my end. If they find out I’m dating an undergrad, they’re going to fire me. It’s a policy violation. For you, it’s a gray area. But let’s try to just cross that bridge when we get there. If this gets out to higher faculty, it does. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. Regardless of what the future holds, try not to stress over it. It’s beyond your control now.”

Junmyeon’s head hung low in regret, his voice hardly above a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Yifan.”

“Don’t apologize, Junmyeon,” Yifan murmured, his arms shackling tighter around the smaller man. “I just want to know what happened. What made you so angry that you snapped like that?”

Junmyeon swallowed thickly, practically talking directly into Yifan’s shoulder. “I… I was at dinner.”

“With your friends?” Yifan asked.

Junmyeon hesitated for a long moment, unsure of how to respond. Were they still his friends? He didn’t know. With how busy his schedule had become lately, it was already a rare occurrence for Junmyeon to join the others for lunch. If he wasn’t too overloaded, Junmyeon still typically had dinner with them. But after what had occurred earlier, Junmyeon was highly doubtful that their group dinners would continue. A large part of him had already predicted that the rest of the gang were going to cut him off as soon as possible. He couldn’t shake the memory of Jongin’s curious but accusing line of questions, Zitao’s shocked yet disgusted expression, the shock and hurt swirling around in Yixing’s eyes as he realized his hunch had been correct while Junmyeon had merely continued to lie right to his face.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Sehun stopped being his friend too. Who would want to associate with him when he was going to be the new talk of the town?

“Yeah. They were talking about you. That’s all they’ve done, along with everyone else, is gossip about you,” Junmyeon finally answered, his voice trembling as he dug his fingers into the fabric of Yifan’s shirt. “It’s been like that for an entire semester, and it’s always made me uneasy, even back before we started dating. But now, being in a relationship with you, knowing you better, understanding more clearly that everyone just bandwagons hate about you for no real reason, I just… I got so angry. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I was arguing with one of them, telling him it wasn’t fair and that he shouldn’t talk about you like that.”

“Then what happened?” Yifan asked, voice soft.

“It… It was like having tunnel vision. We kept arguing, back and forth, and I started screaming at him. I didn’t realize until it was too late how loud I was being, or what was coming out of my mouth. It was as if I was stuck on autopilot.” Junmyeon’s voice was hardly above a mumble. “I couldn’t control myself. I saw red and everything went downhill from there.”

He felt Yifan’s ribcage shift with a deep sigh. “I see… Well… I was the one who kept saying that you needed to stop being a doormat. Even if the circumstances aren’t good, I am glad to see you beginning to stand up for what you believe in. needless to say, knowing you were coming to _my_ defense, of all things, is flattering despite this mess.”

Junmyeon raised his head to give Yifan a baffled look. “With all that’s going on right now, you’re still going to glow over having your ego stroked?”

Yifan merely shrugged guiltily. “I mean, hey, bad situation or not, it still feels good to be cared about.”

Junmyeon merely stared at him for a moment in disbelief before shaking his head. He didn’t have any words to share. And judging by Yifan’s responding silence, neither did he.

What was there to say? At the end of the day, they were both fully aware of the dangers of their current situation, and they knew it was entirely out of their control.

And no matter how many times Junmyeon closed his eyes and wished for it not to be reality, he couldn’t change it.

* * *

Junmyeon knew he couldn’t run from his problems forever, but it certainly didn’t stop him from trying. He had temporarily dropped contact with everyone, aside from Yifan, since the incident at the dining hall. He didn’t dare check his phone for potential text messages, and the fear of facing the world left him barricaded inside of Yifan’s apartment for the remainder of the evening. Neither of them achieved much sleep that night, tossing and turning with anxiety over their situation.

By the time morning came, Junmyeon, tired and full of aching joints, didn’t bother hurrying to make it to his first class. He missed it, and found that he didn’t care, sleepy and his heart a little too cowardly to face the remaining student body so soon.

But he couldn’t hide forever, and he knew it.

He reluctantly got dressed and slipped out of Yifan’s apartment. He had left the man a note, telling him he had left for his remaining classes, and that he would be back later to check on him. Yifan had been asleep when he had left the building, and Junmyeon didn’t want to wake him, knowing Yifan needed his rest.

The bus ride back towards campus was uncomfortable, but wandering around the grounds was even more intimidating. Junmyeon felt exposed, vulnerable and small under the passing eyes. He kept his head low, the paranoia running rampant in the back of his mind. How many people who passed him knew his secret? How many knew and how many more had already formed judgments and opinions about him without having ever spoken to him?

Junmyeon’s skin had never been thick. It made all the stares and whispers cut that much deeper. The people who stole quick glances at him as he walked across campus and as he sank down into his seat during his remaining lectures for the day, the quiet comments spoken within earshot regarding his situation, those owners temporarily not knowing him enough to match his face with their story.

_“You heard about what happened, right?” “You know Kris, yeah? The art professor. He’s dating an undergrad.” “Some kid in the dining hall last night started yelling that he’s in love with Kris. Who in their right mind could fall for someone so nasty?” “I don’t know who he’s dating, but whoever they are, they must not have their head on straight.” “They’re probably only in it for the benefits. Spread your legs for the teacher and get some good grades in return.” “It’s rather disgusting, don’t you think? Kris is old, and going after some undergrad—” “How can you even sleep at night, knowing you let a man outside of your age range kiss you and fuck you just so that you can have a higher ranking?”_

It already hurt him to the core, and yet, Junmyeon had an inkling that it was only going to get worse.

Luck was already not on his side to begin with, but it was an even bigger punch to the gut later that evening. Junmyeon had ducked into his dorm room to empty out his backpack, dropping off textbooks he no longer needed to lug around, swapping out his notebooks and other study materials in the process as well. Although he swung by Yifan’s to check on him and help him out with his day-to-day activities, he always packed some schoolwork to keep him busy. Sometimes they didn’t need to talk, instead basking in each other’s silent company instead as Yifan curled up in front of the TV with Junmyeon parked beside him, nose buried into his books.

He was tucking his history notebook into his bag when he heard the click of the lock of his door. His heart was immediately on overdrive, in his throat, and Junmyeon fumbled with the notebook as he hurriedly ducked his head, not daring to look Sehun in the eye as his roommate swung the door open.

“Junmyeon,” Sehun blurted. Junmyeon heard the sound of the door closing noisily behind him, the clatter of his sneakers tumbling onto the tiled floors as Sehun kicked them off. His voice sounded panicked, and, still looking down, Junmyeon gasped as Sehun suddenly lunged at him, snagging his shoulders in the grip of his strong hands. Junmyeon at last peeked up at his roommate, finding himself staring back at Sehun’s worried eyes. “Where have you _been?_ Do you have any idea how worried I was about you? You didn’t come back last night and I’ve been blowing your phone up with texts and you didn’t answer _any_ of them—”

A sudden knot swelled in Junmyeon’s throat, and his voice was hardly above a croak as he interrupted the younger male. “I don’t understand… Why were you worried?”

Bewildered, Sehun blinked a few times, pausing to instead lean back and study Junmyeon. He finally seemed to get a grip on himself, but it was clear he still didn’t understand what Junmyeon was rambling about. “Junmyeon, of course I was worried about you. You’re my roommate, you’re my _friend._ You ran off, I had no idea where you were or if you were coming back, and you didn’t reply to any of my messages. I didn’t know what had happened. I thought something bad had happened—”

“Something bad _did_ happen,” Junmyeon mumbled, his gaze falling again, his shoulders slumping under Sehun’s touch. “You heard it; you were there. I… I couldn’t stay here after what I said. I was too afraid, I still am—”

“Whoa, _whoa,_ Junmyeon, slow down! You sound like you’re about to have a panic attack or something. Take a deep breath, and one thing at a time,” Sehun interjected, sounding panicked all over again as he steadied his grip on Junmyeon’s arms. I know what happened wasn’t a good thing, but it’s not the end of the world. You didn’t have to drop off the face of the earth overnight without telling me if you were okay or not.”

“It is the end of the world though,” Junmyeon muttered, his eyes shining with shame and fear and regret. “Don’t you understand? People already know, Sehun. It’s already spreading. It hasn’t even been a day and I’ve heard people talking about us. I wanted to keep this a secret, but I screwed up, and now the jig is up, and it’s going to be the death of us. If it’s already beginning to circulate around campus, it’s not going to take long for it to reach the higher-ups.”

Sehun pursed his lips, seeming unsure of how to answer. Junmyeon just sighed, shrugging the boy’s hands off of him, going back to packing up his backpack.

“I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m sorry. I just… Ever since that happened, I feel like I’m losing my mind. I barely slept. I couldn’t. I’m too nervous. I’m so anxious my stomach has been in knots ever since last night,” Junmyeon murmured. “And I thought it’d just be easier to keep my distance. It’d be easier not to have to explain myself to the others. And I know that you’ve known about us, and kept it a secret, and I appreciate it _so_ much, but… I didn’t want to drag you into this mess.”

Sehun frowned at that. “Junmyeon, you can’t run or hide forever, and you don’t have to try to deal with all your problems on your own. I know that I don’t understand what it’s like to be in your shoes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care, or that I can’t at least listen to what you have to say. I think that’s pretty important considering you feel like the entire world is against you right now.”

“It isn’t that. It’s just…” Junmyeon’s voice wavered, uncertainty lining his words then. “It’s too risky, you know? I mean, even if you still want to be friends with me after this fiasco – I doubt the others will want to talk to me anymore – it’s probably for the best we don’t really talk about it. If this gets out to the wrong people, they’re going to grill everyone I know for info. I don’t want you risking anything for me, Sehun. You’re my friend, but the drama in my life isn’t worth you potentially screwing up your school life and your future. It’s not worth it. I don’t want to get you involved in this.”

“Junmyeon—”

“No, Sehun,” Junmyeon murmured, sighing softly. “I know you want to help, but trust me, it just isn’t worth it. It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.”

Sehun was quiet for a long moment, watching Junmyeon tinker with his bag. He was putting on his coat and his shoes, shrugging his backpack on again. Sehun knew Junmyeon’s routine by now. He ducked in and out of their room a lot these days, especially since Yifan had gotten his surgery. Still, it didn’t make Sehun worry any less, and before Junmyeon could step out of their room, Sehun spoke again.

“Junmyeon,” he started, watching Junmyeon swivel slightly on his heel to give him a puzzled glance. “At least text me back so I know you’re okay. Alright?”

Junmyeon nodded, hand on the doorknob.

“One more thing,” Sehun continued, stepping across the room to come face-to-face with his roommate. Sehun couldn’t help but feel pity for him; Junmyeon looked smaller than usual, as if his body was sinking in on itself from stress. His face looked so tired and his eyes seemed so distant and panicked. Without thinking about it, Sehun then reached out, grabbing Junmyeon in a big bear hug. Junmyeon tensed against him for only a moment before relaxing, sniffling pathetically into Sehun’s shirt. “Regardless of how this all turns out, I’m still going to be your friend, okay?”

Choked up, Junmyeon didn’t answer him with words, instead his nodding weakly, face hidden in the fabric covering Sehun’s chest.

* * *

Junmyeon had been tempted not to show his face in his art class. It was the riskiest lecture, as it was previously run by Yifan. The odds of gossip were highest within the four walls of that room. Not to mention, if he went, Yixing would be there. Junmyeon still had yet to speak to him – along with the others, outside of Sehun – since the incident. Yixing had sent him text messages, and Junmyeon never replied to them, ghosting on Yixing just like how he had been doing with Zitao.

Still, at least dodging Yixing had been easier than avoiding Zitao. He couldn’t help but feel anxious when he had been at Yifan’s and had gotten a message from Sehun saying that Zitao had stopped by their room looking for him. He had just gotten lucky so far, but that luck wouldn’t last forever, and Junmyeon was already fully aware that no matter how far he ran or how well he hid, the problem wasn’t going to fade so easily.

So that morning, he swallowed his fear the best he could, and put on a brave face. Sure, it was a mask, but it provided him temporary comfort by having something to hide behind. It was during times like these that it dawned on him of just how much of a coward he really was, and left him envious of Yifan’s mouth, filled with a tongue that was sharp and unafraid to spit out whatever was on his mind.

He had been expecting it, but it still made him nervous when Yixing shuffled into the classroom that morning, eyes glued onto him the entire time. Junmyeon buried his face into his canvas and kept his mouth firmly shut, not daring to make eye contact, too afraid of what Yixing might say to him.

It was a long, tense lecture. By the time it came to a close, Junmyeon was desperately fumbling with his art supplies, trying to get all of his belongings packed as fast as he could so that he could bolt.

Of course, Yixing didn’t give him a chance.

“Junmyeon,” he then commented, his voice low and yet Junmyeon heard him perfectly over the wild noise of creaking desks and hurried footsteps as everyone rushed for the door. Swallowing, Junmyeon slowly looked up from his supplies to find Yixing standing beside his desk, a disappointed expression ground deep into his features. Junmyeon quickly lowered his gaze, immediately feeling uncomfortable under the sudden spotlight. “You can’t ignore me forever.”

Junmyeon didn’t respond, merely standing there with his hands full of art supplies. He bit his lip; what _could_ he say?

And apparently Yixing could pick up on the fact that he wasn’t going to attempt to reply, because he was the first one to speak yet again. “Why did you lie to me?”

Although Junmyeon hadn’t been expecting it, that question struck a nerve deep within him.

“It was never your business in the first place,” Junmyeon countered coldly, at last raising his eyes from his belongings to stare at Yixing from the opposite side of the desk. “I never would have had to lie if you had never asked me about it.”

The subject hung unsaid in the air, but they were both plenty aware of what the focus of the conversation was. The student body had trickled out of the room by now, leaving the two of them alone in a sea of desks and unfinished canvases.

Yixing frowned, his eyes narrowing a little. “Junmyeon, if you didn’t want me to know, you could have told me it didn’t involve me and for me to stay out of it. You didn’t have to spend the entire semester lying to my face.”

“I tried multiple times to get you to stop asking, and you never got the hint. How many times did you interrogate me since I met you about this? And when I didn’t give you the info you wanted, you kept pushing. You even brought it up when we were hanging out in the dorm that one time,” Junmyeon argued, his voice wavering with growing anger of his own, “and you probably went around behind my back asking them too about it! What did you expect me to do? I kept trying, over and over again, to let it go and you wouldn’t let me! If you had just butted out of it I wouldn’t have lied to you to begin with!”

Yixing blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. It was a rare occurrence for Junmyeon to grow angry, and even rarer for Junmyeon to raise his voice. By the time he opened his mouth to respond, Junmyeon ran him right over, practically yelling as they stood there at the front of the room.

“Why am I always the bad guy? No matter what I do, I’m always wrong! Everyone is always riding my ass about what I do and if I so much as breathe too loudly, I’m getting chewed out then too! First it was that I’m working too hard, then I try to have fun like everyone else and went to a party to be normal and no, it backfired on me and nearly ruined my life,” Junmyeon ranted, completely losing his grip on reality then, along with his temper, and he just couldn’t _stop_. “Then I say I’ve barely dated, that I’m inexperienced. I got hounded over that too, then I decide to date and it’s also wrong because apparently who I’m with isn’t good enough for anyone, even though no one even knows him like I do. I’m so _tired_ of always being wrong and having to say sorry! It’s like there’s a damn target painted on my back and it’s so frustrating that no one seems to care beyond themselves! Why is everyone turning this around on me? Why is everyone accusing me and coming at me like this instead of trying to understand how I feel? Is that too much for anyone to consider? I have feelings too, but instead I’m always stuck getting the short end of the stick and I’m so _sick_ of it!”

He was such an emotional wreck lately, and Junmyeon hated how tears stung his eyes yet again. Yifan had told him that he wasn’t a crybaby, but at times like these, eyes getting wet after an argument, Junmyeon wondered if Yifan had only told him that to try to build up his shabby self-esteem a little more.

His shoulders were heaving and Junmyeon clenched his jaw for a moment, wordlessly glaring at Yixing. The younger student was motionless, standing there completely stunned into silence. A few students that had trickled into the room for their upcoming lecture had also begun to stare, having caught the tailwind of their argument and were curious as to what was going on between them.

It was Junmyeon who spoke again, his voice low and wavering. “This is why I lied to you. It was always too risky to tell anyone for the obvious reasons, but this is just another aspect of it. I’ve had this fear for a long time that everyone would just gossip about me and that no one would understand. And I was right. No one gets it. And honestly, I don’t have the energy or the time to try to explain myself or my decisions to everyone who asks. So, you know what? It’s fine. No one has to understand. It makes sense to me, and that’s all that matters.”

Without waiting for a reply, Junmyeon tossed the rest of his supplies into his backpack. He grabbed it in one hand, heaved it up, and, swiveling on his heel, he walked out.

* * *

Junmyeon did not have a large social circle. It had been a little bigger, once upon a time, but he had stopped talking to Jongdae after the chaos of the party at the fraternity house. He and Jongin talked, but they weren’t extremely close. Plus, he didn’t seem like the confrontational type. Junmyeon wasn’t too surprised that Jongin hadn’t tried to get in contact with him over his now-revealed secret regarding his dating life.

Zitao, however, _was_ confrontational. The boy had a fiery temper and a mouth to match. Not hearing anything from him was suspicious, but Junmyeon could only assume that Yixing had told him what had happened. After all, it was odd to have Zitao blowing up his phone and coming to his room looking for him, to suddenly not try to contact him at all.

Still, a part of Junmyeon wanted it to just come to a head already so that he could stop worrying about it. Even if the final moments were sour, at least there would be some closure.

He sighed, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. His breath visibly fogged before him, and he pressed his chin down against his chest, trying to keep warm. The good news was that at least Sehun still wanted to be friends with him, so he wouldn’t be completely alone. He hadn’t heard a single peep from Yixing after lashing out at him at the end of his art lecture yesterday morning. He was overall doubtful of their friendship remaining intact after everything that had happened. He tried not to dwell on it too much, but even if he managed to block Yixing out of his mind, Zitao was there in his brain, taking his place.

Despite Zitao’s love for gossip, and that his talk led to Junmyeon exposing his secret, Junmyeon’s heart did feel a little heavier when he thought about losing him. Zitao wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but Junmyeon was rather fond of him. After all, Zitao had been his rock multiple times over the course of the semester. Junmyeon hadn’t forgotten about the instances where Zitao jumped to his defense, the moments where Zitao stood up to Jongdae because Junmyeon couldn’t bring himself to do so, where Zitao knocked Chanyeol to the floor outside of the cafeteria for giving him a hard time, and, although he couldn’t remember it, how Zitao had helped get him safely out of that shady party unharmed.

The boy was flawed, but he meant well, and Junmyeon knew that Zitao had done a _lot_ for him over the course of their friendship.

“You seem troubled,” a voice commented, and Junmyeon jumped, startled as he glanced over at Yifan. Bundled up in his winter coat, brow furrowed, Yifan had his gaze lowered. He was keeping an eye on his own footsteps, concentrating, paranoid he would stumble and fall if he wasn’t looking where he was going. He was improving day by day; gone were the moments of him shuffling around and being unable to pick up his feet even if he tried. Still, Junmyeon knew that he’d be happier once he could finally ditch the walker for a cane. It wouldn’t be as clunky, or as noisy; even right then, as the two of them walked around Yifan’s apartment complex, Junmyeon could hear the faint rattling of the walker as Yifan moved it along. “What’s on your mind?”

Junmyeon sighed softly from beside him, a shiver scaling his spine as he sank further into the warmth of his coat. “Same thing that’s been on my mind all week.”

“I thought so,” Yifan said simply, his voice level and calm as he continued to walk alongside Junmyeon on the quiet sidewalk. Dusk was beginning to fall, sun dipping behind the high rise of apartment buildings.

Junmyeon frowned, giving Yifan a puzzled glance. “Aren’t you worried? You sound so…calm.”

“Of course I’m worried. I’ve already told you that it is what it is and that we can’t stop it, so there’s no point in you fussing and living in fear like this,” Yifan pointed out, a frown crossing his face as he paused. The leasing office stood behind them as Yifan turned to Junmyeon, loosely clutching the handles of his walker. “Why the long face though?”

Junmyeon’s chin wrinkled as his lips twisted up unhappily, his gaze immediately trailing sideways. “Nothing really. Just… Friendship related stuff, like I told you about earlier.”

“I’ve told you, Junmyeon, chances are that you aren’t going to be friends with these people after you graduate. It’s good to have friends, but you can’t let trying to please others for the sake of keeping peace, or trying to impress everyone in general, run your life.”

“I know! It’s just… This sounds stupid, but I just don’t want to be alone,” Junmyeon confessed quietly.

“You’re better off alone than being stuck surrounded by shitty company,” Yifan pointed out, “or company that doesn’t support your decisions that make you happy.”

Without giving Junmyeon a chance to reply, Yifan suddenly leaned forward, and pecked him right on the mouth. The kiss lasted only a second, and Yifan then pulled away, a cheeky grin on his face as Junmyeon returned it with a stare of disbelief, somewhat dumbfounded over what had just happened.

“Regardless,” Yifan commented, “I’m sure at the end of the day I can make you happy.”

“Oh, _stop_ ,” Junmyeon groaned, reaching out to swat Yifan on the arm. He let out a gagging sound as Yifan merely broke down into amused chuckles. “You’re the cheesiest man alive!”

“You love me anyway,” Yifan argued, and Junmyeon didn’t bother to try to argue as Yifan swooped in again, kissing him once more, this time so much slower and deeper and Junmyeon’s knees were immediately wobbling like jelly beneath him.

He couldn’t argue with the truth.

* * *

The week slowly drew to a close. Junmyeon had been walking on eggshells for days, waiting with baited breath to see what was going to happen. He hoped that the small remainder of the semester could trickle away without too much drama, but he had a bad inkling that it wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t that lucky, and the fact that talk was already spreading around campus was not helping his case any. He was beginning to understand how Yifan felt on a day-to-day basis. It wasn’t pleasant, overhearing gossip about you, the whispers between students about him, the rumors that weren’t true, the instances of harmful wishes coming his way. It cut him deeply, overhearing people saying that what he was doing wasn’t fair, that he was cheating the system, merely obtaining good marks for sleeping with Yifan, and the list went on. For a while, he was thankful that no one was able to match his face to his name, but even that slowly began to change. By the time the week ended, people began to understand fully. Junmyeon could hear them as he walked by – _that’s him, that’s Kim Junmyeon, isn’t that the one dating Kris, it must be –_ and merely obtaining nasty looks and overhearing an assortment of comments was beginning to become the tip of the iceberg. It crushed him more than he wanted to admit, coming home to the dorm to find a note taped to his door, plastered with slurs and hurtful words and ill wishes.

It wasn’t just because he was dating Yifan, a professor; it was also because they were both men.

Oh, how narrow-minded some people could be, and it was such an unfortunate reality in Junmyeon’s world.

The weekend came and went, trickling slowly, as if teasing him. He tried to fill his time with studying, but he couldn’t focus, avoiding setting foot into the cafeteria as he instead holed himself up in Yifan’s apartment, the two of them cooking together. He felt too on edge and even when Yifan peppered his skin with kisses, Junmyeon’s brain was still on overdrive. Night left him tossing and turning; he was a worrier by nature and even sleeping beside Yifan, an arm sprawled across the bed and into Junmyeon’s face as he stayed spread-eagled on his back, didn’t bring him any comfort.

But, he didn’t have to live in anxiety forever. Junmyeon found himself quietly eating lunch on Monday afternoon as he busied himself with his phone, caught between classes. There was a notification for a new email, and, not thinking about what it might contain, he opened his mailbox to check.

And upon seeing a message that commanded for him to be at the dean’s office as soon as possible, Junmyeon not only dropped his phone, but he also became immediately aware that this was the beginning of the end.

* * *

Yifan was fidgeting as he slid to the edge of his couch, feet planted firmly on the floor as he stared back at the screen of his laptop.

“It isn’t like that,” he said, his voice wavering, because, hell, he _was_ afraid. He had been in the middle of chucking dirty laundry into the washing machine when his phone had started ringing off the hook, and from there, everything began to fall apart. He was wanted at the dean’s office, and Yifan, with a sinking heart, truthfully admitted he couldn’t drive due to his back surgery. It was how he was glued to his laptop, stuck on a video call, trying to defend himself. “Junmyeon has never received special treatment from me. He’s always, from the start of the semester, until now, been held to the same standards as everyone else.”

“We’re still investigating this from all angles, Kris. We did have someone who came forward and mentioned that Junmyeon has been…a little too close, if you will, with you. Extended periods spent in your office, staying late after lectures… You have always had a high number of failures in your classes, but upon pulling Junmyeon’s current grades in the system, he seems to have pretty high marks,” the dean commented. “And you’re saying that there is nothing going on?”

“There hasn’t, and never has been, any pulling of strings regarding Junmyeon’s grades. I can provide you with copies of his grading rubrics, if you’d like them; he’s obtained good grades in my lecture because he follows instructions, produces good and consistent work, and always meets the criteria,” Yifan continued, squeezing his hands together in his lap. “It _isn’t_ because of anything else.”

“If you can find a way to provide those to me as soon as possible, please do so. Aside from the aspect of grades,” the man continued, “there is another topic here that you and I need to discuss.”

_“Kris, we need to talk,” the sound of fingers flying across a keyboard, a multitude of framed certificates in the background hanging upon the wall, “about an allegation that you’re in a relationship with a first-year undergrad.”_

Yifan swallowed. “What do you want to know?”

“Have you or have you not,” the dean continued, “been in a relationship of any sort, with Kim Junmyeon?”

Yifan’s throat bobbed again, his voice dead in his throat. He was internally beginning to panic, unsure of what to do. Should he lie? Would the backlash be even greater if he lied and was later found out? Should he fess up? His mind was reeling and Yifan dug his nails into the backs of his hands.

“No,” he blurted, much too fast, lying, squeezing his hands together tighter, marking them with crescent moons from his nails.

“You haven’t?” the dean asked him, one bushy eyebrow twitching a bit higher, as if testing him.

Yifan’s voice came out even more raspy than it did the first time. “No.”

The chat was blinking, showing him a request to share screens. Yifan, fingers cold and shaky, moved his touchpad to accept the request. And the next thing he knew, he was staring at a somewhat grainy, paused video clip. His heart tumbled inside of his chest, immediately knowing he was backed into a corner.

It was him and Junmyeon in that video.

“I think,” the dean said, and it felt like the world had stopped turning when he pressed play, “that you have a lot of explaining to do, Kris.”

Footage of the two of them in his apartment complex, Junmyeon’s hand lingering on his back as the two of them came up the sidewalk and disappeared up the first flight of stairs, captured on the camera stationed on the side of the building. Footage of the two of them going for a walk, huddled close, laughing together, before Yifan suddenly captured Junmyeon’s lips in a kiss. Clips of Junmyeon clambering off the back of his motorcycle, and older still, like the time Yifan had playfully pushed Junmyeon against the wall of his building and kissed him like the world was about to end.

And Yifan was frozen, merely staring at the screen, and watching his hidden life unravel before his very eyes.

* * *

Junmyeon had emerged from the dean’s office with quivering legs, his mind barely intact after the initial digging of the investigation. Things from there only got worse; he had to give up his past assignments and grading sheets to be examined, and everything else from there was going to be dug into as well. Junmyeon didn’t mind that; he had never cheated, so let them look.

However, he didn’t try to lie about dating Yifan, not after being faced with videotaped proof.

In less than twenty-four hours, their lives had changed. In a day, both of them had been interrogated, and both of their worlds fell apart. There was little dirt on Junmyeon’s academics. His work was being cross-examined by other professors to ensure there wasn’t any form of cheating involved, or merely being rewarded for dating his teacher. He was overall clean, but there was still skepticism; Junmyeon, for that reason, accepted repeating some of his old work, and took on a different assignment than the rest of the class for his final project, and would be graded by a different team. He was in the clear. He was going to be okay. There were doubters, of course there were, but they had no proof to back up their claims that he was being treated unfairly high compared to everyone else.

However, Yifan was not in the same boat.

Junmyeon had come home later that day to talk about what had happened. He hadn’t, however, been expecting to come home to a silent, uneasy apartment. He hadn’t been able to find Yifan anywhere, and his calls across the small home went unanswered. He found Yifan at last, burrowed down into his bed in the late afternoon, hidden underneath a mountain of blankets, and curtains drawn shut.

_“Yifan?” Junmyeon called, voice soft and unsure as he set foot into the dark bedroom. The lump under the covers didn’t move. Biting his lip in worry, Junmyeon shuffled across the space before sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Yifan, what’s wrong?”_

_He heard a hiccup from somewhere underneath the comforter._

_“I got fired,” Yifan sniveled, not daring to move the blankets, not wanting Junmyeon to see him cry. “It’s over.”_

The next day, Luhan came by the apartment as Junmyeon stood in the kitchen making dinner for the two of them. It made his gut twist to open the door to find Luhan standing on the other side, lugging a large box in his arms, full of Yifan’s belongings that were in his now unoccupied office.

_“His books are in the car, but I only have two hands. I brought up what I could,” Luhan said as he waddled inside, letting out an ‘oof’ as he set the box down on the floor. He straightened up and took a look around the apartment. “Where is he, anyway?”_

_“He’s in his room,” Junmyeon said softly, already turning away and heading back into the kitchen to attend to the soup he was making. “I’ve barely been able to get him to come out over the last two days, and he’s hardly eating anything. I’ve never seen him this upset.”_

_Luhan was quiet for a moment, before he padded after Junmyeon, leaning against the wall as he watched Junmyeon sit the soup slowly. “Does he realize it’s a job, and not the end of the world?”_

_“Luhan… You’ve known him much longer than I have. You must know by now that he’s never really loved being a professor. He just wanted people to appreciate art, since he pretty much gave up on being an artist,” Junmyeon murmured over the sound of simmering. “But just because it wasn’t something he loved doing, doesn’t mean it hurt to get fired from it. He’s put a lot of time and work and heart into his job… And now it’s gone. He must feel lost. I just… God, I feel so bad… It’s all my fault.”_

And there were no changes for days. Junmyeon came over, and for days in a row, it looked like the apartment was uninhabited. The books and belongings that he and Luhan had brought in remained on the floor. Yifan didn’t bother trying to find a place to put them, or to put them away. It was a challenge just to get Yifan up off the couch or from his bed to get him to eat something, and harder still to convince him to head downstairs for his daily walk. He needed the exercise, but he was so busy moping that he didn’t feel motivated enough to do it.

Thankfully, he had Junmyeon.

By the end of the week, Yifan was finally showing a bit of improvement. Junmyeon had popped in on Thursday to find Yifan sitting on the couch, a canvas propped up on his easel atop of the coffee table. The weather played mindlessly in the background, and Yifan merely busied himself with working on one of his older paintings.

It wasn’t much, but at least he was finally doing something with his life again.

_“It’s a beautiful painting,” Junmyeon complimented, sitting next to Yifan on the couch, textbook spread across his thighs. Yifan merely hummed in response. He wasn’t talking much lately, wrapped up in his own head. Junmyeon quieted for a moment, watching him put the finishing touches onto the painting. He usually signed his paintings with a small ‘Kris’ in the corner, but not this time. Junmyeon frowned, confused, as he watched Yifan instead draw a symbol of what had to have been a wing in the bottom corner. “What’s that?”_

_“My new signature,” Yifan replied softly, setting down his brush and massaging his wrist. He had been painting too long and his joints hurt. “I mean, I’ve gone by ‘Kris’ for years. I’ve always signed my paintings like that too. But it feels… I don’t know, wrong, I guess, to try to do that now. This is a new chapter of my life, so I’m starting clean.”_

_“But why a wing?” Junmyeon asked._

_“Well…” Yifan’s eyes remained focused and unblinking behind his glasses. “I guess now that this is a new beginning, I’m free of everything that’s been following me for so long. Insert some metaphor here for a wing resembling someone taking flight to a new part of life, or something. You get the point.”_

_Junmyeon was quiet for a moment before he let out a snort, playfully nudging Yifan’s thigh with his foot, leg outstretched. “Now that sounds more like the Yifan I know.”_

On Friday, the world seemed to have realized what had happened. Yifan’s nameplate outside of his office was gone, and everyone knew his fate. Junmyeon was a little too numbed from worry regarding Yifan’s current state, and all that he had gone through over the course of a week, to pay it much attention. It didn’t matter anymore, what people said about him.

It wasn’t like Yifan worked there anymore, anyway.

Sehun had expressed his worry over him multiple times already, but Junmyeon waved him away. He was fine. Worried, and pretty stressed out, but he was okay. Finals were right around the corner. In a matter of days, he could take his exams, and be finished with the semester forever. Right then, that was all he wanted.

Junmyeon was going to be late to Yifan’s that Friday evening. He had already told Yifan, and the most he got in response was a grunt of confirmation. Ever since he had gotten fired, Yifan had been out of it. He was coming out of his room more, but he seemed spacey and uninterested in majority of things, even food. Junmyeon was planning on surprising him tonight with some of his favorite takeout and a box of donuts; he had never seen Yifan in a bad mood when he had a donut in his hand.

He had planning on being late due to the fact he was planning on meeting up with Luhan in his office to discuss their previously unfinished plans about the art show, but there was one other reason why he was currently off schedule.

He was packing his belongings for another weekend at Yifan’s when there was a knock on the door of his dorm room. Thinking it was Sehun who had forgotten his key again and had locked himself out, Junmyeon didn’t bother to check to see who was on the other side before pulling the door open.

And when he swung it open, there stood Zitao.

“Uh, hey,” Zitao started, his voice abnormally uneasy. “Do you have a minute?”

Part of Junmyeon wanted to just slam the door shut in his face, but he controlled himself, instead merely tightening his grip on the door handle as he stared back at Zitao. “I was actually about to leave… I have something I need to do.”

Zitao winced, clearly able to feel the tension between them. They hadn’t spoken to each other, or even seen each other, since their argument at dinner that one fateful night.

“It won’t take long,” Zitao blurted, as if trying to convince him. “Junmyeon, I just want to talk to you.”

Junmyeon sighed silently through his nose, not budging from his spot in the doorway. “Alright…”

“I… I heard about Kris,” Zitao then stated, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “That they let him go. I know you guys are together, and—”

“We’re fine,” Junmyeon interrupted, not having the patience.

“That’s not my point. I mean, yeah, I’m worried about you. You’ve practically dropped off the face of the earth. If I hadn’t heard from Sehun that you’re okay, I would’ve thought you were dead or something,” Zitao rambled, and Junmyeon pursed his lips, uncertain of where the younger man was going with this. “Look, Junmyeon, I just… I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. None of this would’ve happened if I had kept my mouth shut. I know you’re probably still angry at me, and you have a right to be.”

Junmyeon’s knuckles glowed white as he gripped the handle tighter, but he found that he couldn’t get any words to come out of his mouth. They were all stuck in his throat.

“I don’t know Kris personally. You’re right. And you were right when you basically told me to keep his name out of my mouth when I don’t actually know him. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know you guys were a thing,” Zitao babbled, on the verge of panicking and talking a mile a minute. “And I didn’t know it was hurting you all this time when I talked shit about him. I just—I talk too much, and I can admit it. I like to gossip and run my mouth and this was one of the worst times I could have ever done it and _fuck_ , Junmyeon, you have a right to hate me—”

“I don’t hate you,” Junmyeon interrupted, his voice soft, yet honest. He was quiet for a moment, debating on what to say, before he sighed. “Upset and angry at you, yes, but I don’t hate you. No one made me argue with you. I did that myself. Do I appreciate your apology? Yes. Can I pretend that we’re okay again just like that? No. Things are… They’re hard right now, they’re _really_ difficult, and I just need some time away. Away from here, from you, from everyone. It’s too much. Regardless, I feel like you and I have gone through too much together to just snip the ends apart so hastily.”

Armed with his bag, Junmyeon stepped out into the hall, and locked his door. Zitao stood awkwardly beside him the entire time, silent.

“I know you don’t understand it,” Junmyeon then said softly, giving Zitao a spare glance. “I never expected for anyone to ‘get’ it, that I love someone older than me and different than me in every way. But I do love him. That’s one reason this whole charade has been so hard to swallow. Like I said, I appreciate the apology, but… It’s too soon, you know? I need some time. For a while, I just… I need to be alone.”

He barely gave Zitao the time to nod in reply before he turned around, and walked off, sneakers silent against the ugly hallway carpet. He felt so conflicted about everything lately, and his mind felt too full as he headed down the back stairwell before tumbling out onto the sidewalk. He zipped his jacket up a bit higher and began to walk, heading for the history building to go talk to Luhan.

The entire journey, he felt at war with himself, unsure of what to do. Sure, there wasn’t anything he could do about the gossip, the rumors, the trash talking. He felt more uncertain of what to do regarding his previous friendships. Junmyeon had said he needed time, and it was a true statement. But even as he began to mull it over, he didn’t know what he wanted. He wasn’t sure if he should forgive and try to move on, or to continue holding onto the hurt and cut the strings. It felt too soon to try to tell anyone that what had happened was forgivable.

He sighed, the door to the history building closing noisily behind him. He was on autopilot as he wandered the halls, finding Luhan’s office with no effort. He stood outside the open door, and poked his head inside, rapping his knuckles against the doorframe. Luhan, at his desk, perked up at the noise.

“Hey,” Junmyeon greeted, and Luhan nodded at him, signaling for him to come in. He did so, shedding his backpack and dropping it to the floor as he took a seat across from the professor, remembering to close the door behind himself on the way into the room.

“How’s Kris?” Luhan asked him, and Junmyeon didn’t do a very good job of hiding the wince that crawled onto his face. Luhan frowned as well. “Still not too good, huh?”

“He’s improving a little, but he’s still super down in the dumps. On a positive note, he’s finally starting to paint again,” Junmyeon replied, sighing. “And eat, which is good. But, on the topic of his paintings, do you remember how I asked you a while back about the art show?”

Luhan hummed. “About submitting one of his paintings?”

“Right,” Junmyeon agreed, “you think there’s still a way for us to do that?”

“I don’t think there is,” Luhan admitted with a sigh. “The art show is only open to staff and students who are members of this university… Since Kris got fired, he doesn’t belong to the university anymore. He doesn’t qualify.”

Junmyeon bit his lip, not thinking about the potential consequences as he spoke up. “What if I submitted it myself?”

“The only way that would work was if you lied and said it was your own,” Luhan replied.

A cheeky smile began to pull at Junmyeon’s mouth. “They don’t need to know.”

“You’re just as bad as Kris! So ridiculously stubborn,” Luhan scolded, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “I’m not getting in the middle of this, Junmyeon.”

“You don’t have to,” Junmyeon said, way too coolly. His mind, however, was racing, alarm bells of panic ringing loud in clear in his brain, but Junmyeon tried his best to ignore them. Perhaps, just this once, taking a risk would be worth it. “Just tell me where I need to go to sign up.”


	32. Virtuosity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[ VIRTUOSITY ]_  
>  great technical skill or captivating personal style, especially as exhibited in the arts.  
> A/N: Warning this chapter due to sexual content

His life had already changed drastically since the start of the semester, and Junmyeon had an inkling that the trend was only going to continue. After all, even though his final exams were in less than two weeks, it wasn’t like everything was going to come to a skidding stop afterwards. It was only his first semester; there were many more to come. 

Not only that, but he was feeling rather conflicted about the future already. Yifan had suggested for him to become a fashion major, and that thought remained in the back of Junmyeon’s head for what felt like an eternity. It didn’t sound like a bad idea, but he was worried about the future regardless. Would he able to find work with that type of degree once he graduated? 

And on the topic of work, what was he going to do once the semester ended? He was currently unemployed. He needed to find something to do before school started up again. And one question lurking in his mind was where he was going to try to find a job. He hadn’t claimed his dorm room over break; he couldn’t crash back there until next semester. 

Should he go home? 

He really didn’t want to; his hometown didn’t bear too many good memories as of late. He brought up his dilemma to Yifan one evening as the two of them sat at the table, sharing a meal that Junmyeon had made. 

Yifan seemed rather apathetic about the entire situation, merely keeping his eyes locked onto his bowl. It didn’t surprise Junmyeon any to hear Yifan talk with his mouth full, but him replying with a simple ‘you can stay with me’ did come as a bit of a shocker. 

_“Won’t I be overstaying my welcome?” Junmyeon asked, the nervousness lining his voice._

_Yifan merely arched an eyebrow, corner of his lips curling up ever-so-slightly in amusement_

_“Have you forgotten that I’m still fond of the idea of you moving in with me?”_

Well, at least that was one problem solved. 

Still, there were plenty more issues, and he’d just have to tackle them one by one. On a positive note, he had already started chipping away at the problem known as the art show. Junmyeon had already filled out the proper applications. He had waited for Yifan to get in the shower before combing through his paintings, trying to decide which one to pick for submission. It felt wrong, going into Yifan’s studio and rummaging through his belongings, but he had to find the perfect painting. Thankfully, he had managed to find the one with enough time to spare, successfully ducking out of the room and scampering across the apartment. He was in the kitchen before Yifan exited the bathroom. He didn’t suspect a thing. 

And later that evening, when they sat together on the couch to watch a movie and Yifan dozed off with the bowl of popcorn in his lap, Junmyeon launched the remainder of his plan into action. He managed to move the bowl without waking Yifan up, and after treating him to a blanket being draped over his lap and a kiss on the forehead, ducked back into Yifan’s studio to grab the painting he had earlier set his eyes on. 

And with Yifan still fast asleep on the couch, Junmyeon made his escape, scurrying out of the apartment and down the stairs with his backpack and Yifan’s painting. 

Now all he had to do was keep it a secret from Yifan until the art show debuted during exam week. 

On the way down the final flight of stairs, Junmyeon passed underneath the final arch of the building, before setting foot on the sidewalk. There, he paused, turning on his heel to glance back at the apartment. The camera stationed on the corner greeted him, recording everyone who entered and exited, along with whatever activity was happening in the parking lot. 

Well, hopefully he could keep this secret better than the now-known one about their relationship. 

But when he thought about it, it was actually somewhat surprising that they had lasted as long as they did. There were cameras everywhere: Yifan’s apartment building, the leasing office, the remainder of the complex, the entrance of the art building… He was sure the list went on, but those were the main ones he had noticed. They had been playing with fire the entire semester; all of those cameras had footage of them. All it would have taken was for someone to speak up sooner, to notice them sooner, for everything to fall apart long before it actually had. After all, all it had taken was for one mysterious person to go and complain for the footage to be pulled and for their mysterious life to unravel entirely. 

It was highly doubtful that they could last an entire four years in secret. 

Junmyeon, halfway down the street, paused at that thought. He hadn’t mulled over their future together much at all, and randomly realizing that the two of them may actually continue dating throughout the remainder of his college career, it boggled his mind. 

But it didn’t sound bad in the slightest. With a reddened face, Junmyeon tightened his grip on the painting, and kept walking.

* * *

Perhaps it was because they were roommates, and had already gone through so much together – situations of both good and bad – but Sehun was the person that Junmyeon found easiest to let back into his heart after what had happened. 

That didn’t mean it had been easy though. Sehun had been trying to get him to talk for days since the incident, but Junmyeon firmly kept his mouth shut about it. He wasn’t ready to discuss it. But as the days began to pass, and he came slowly but surely but terms about what had happened, it no longer felt like he needed to keep his lips glued together anymore. 

“I think this is the first time in ages you actually ate all your food without picking at it,” Sehun stated. Junmyeon glanced up from his book to stare at him. With finals coming up, both of them being stressed, and Junmyeon still refusing to confront his remaining friends, the two of them had decided to stay in for the evening. They had rolled out one of Sehun’s spare blankets across the floor and had camped out upon it with their takeout that Sehun had picked up on his way back to the dorm. They had dragged some of their schoolwork onto the blanket too, intending to study while they ate. 

Junmyeon glanced down at his empty food box. Well, he supposed Sehun was right. 

“I guess it’s from finally getting over the drama,” Junmyeon replied, “and stress-eating. You know… Exams, and everything.” 

“Either way, it’s good to see you getting back to normal again,” Sehun said, loosely shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, you haven’t said much to anything about it, so I’m just assuming here that it’s getting better.” 

“There hasn’t been a whole lot to talk about, to be honest. You knew about the drama already… And about Yifan getting fired. Not much else has happened since then, thankfully.” 

“You would’ve been less stressed about the entire ordeal if you had talked about it with someone,” Sehun argued. 

Junmyeon’s shoulders flinched inward guiltily. “You’re probably right. I don’t know, I just didn’t want you risking getting sucked into this mess. That and I tend to shut down whenever I get too stressed.” 

“That’s something you can work on improving then,” Sehun said, “especially since you still haven’t tried to talk to Yixing or Zitao.” 

Junmyeon frowned. “I wouldn’t say not talking to them is tied to stress…” 

“It is though, since you panicked and shut everyone out,” Sehun argued, pursing his lips. “That and it seems like you’re afraid of confrontation.” 

Junmyeon opened his mouth to say something, before he simply closed it again. Now that he thought about it, maybe Sehun was right. 

“You _are_ going to talk to them again, right?” Sehun then asked, his eyebrows pinching together. “The semester is almost over…you’re running out of time.” 

“I know,” Junmyeon replied softly, biting his lip. “I’ll… I’ll talk to them soon.” 

“You might want to hurry up,” Sehun continued, turning his attention onto his own schoolwork, “time isn’t going to stop for you.”

* * *

The painting was accepted. 

Junmyeon felt giddy with anticipation, and it was a bit of an adrenaline rush, being the only one who knew it was Yifan’s painting that was going to be on display, and not his own. The showing would be occurring during finals a week, a mere two days away, and Junmyeon was a bit stumped as to how he was going to break the news to Yifan. 

Aside from that, there was only one problem remaining on Junmyeon’s path. 

Standing in the hall of the dorm, Junmyeon hesitated. He raised his hand, curled into a fist, paused, and let it drop again. 

_Coward,_ his brain spat at him, and Junmyeon bawled his hands up further, feeling the prickling of his fingernails against his palm. 

And before he could stop himself, Junmyeon reached out, and knocked on the heavy door. 

All was silent for a moment. It made him even more anxious. He heard a faint shuffle from within the room, before the door suddenly swung open, leaving him face-to-face with Zitao, along with three other pairs of eyes staring at him. 

After a moment of the two of them staring at each other, Zitao spoke first, hand still lingering on the handle of the door. “What are you doing here?” 

They hadn’t spoken to each other, even through text messages, since Zitao had tried to approach him after the incident. From around the bigger student, Junmyeon could see Yixing, Sehun, and Jongin huddled together on the floor. 

Sehun had already told him that he was going to be hanging out in Zitao’s and Jongin’s room over the course of the evening, and that it would make a good opportunity for Junmyeon to swing by and finally try talking to the others, as he wouldn’t be alone and caught on the spot as severely if anything came up during the discussion. But even with Sehun around, and knowing everyone was going to be present at once, Junmyeon felt cornered regardless. 

Junmyeon’s gaze temporarily fell downward as he tried to select his words. “I just… I needed to talk to you guys.” 

Zitao didn’t reply at first, and Junmyeon had a fearful inkling that Zitao might just close the door in his face. Instead, much to his relief, Zitao shuffled aside and granted him entrance into the room. 

Junmyeon toed off his shoes as he walked inside. The air around him felt thick and awkward and it was immediately obvious that no one knew what to say. 

Finally, it was Zitao who piped up as he seated himself on the floor beside his friends. “So, how are you holding up?” 

That moved something deep inside of him. Even though they had argued and hadn’t talked for a while, even though Zitao had discovered his secret, the younger student still cared about him. 

“Okay, I guess. Since everyone found out about what happened, the rumors and whatnot have calmed down almost entirely. The storm pretty much blew over once Yifan was dismissed,” Junmyeon said. 

Yixing spoke up, a deep frown carved into his features. “So, what’s the deal with Kris? Like, what _really_ happened to him? You know everyone has been gossiping about him across campus but no one knows the truth except you.” 

And Sehun, but Junmyeon didn’t dare say that, not wanting to throw him under the bus. 

“Everyone knows he has back problems. If you mean why he went on leave, that’s why… He fell down the stairs and it screwed up his back even more. He had to undergo a spinal surgery to fix it,” Junmyeon said quietly, biting his lip at the memory. There was no longer a point in lying and withholding information. Yifan didn’t work at the school anymore. There was no longer anything to lose. “As to why he got fired? That was my fault… Since I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. People overheard, people talked, and the wrong person found out. I don’t know who snitched on us but that doesn’t matter anymore. They launched an investigation, found out we’ve been dating, and that was it. They fired him right after.” 

“You’re so hard on yourself,” Zitao muttered. Junmyeon wasn’t sure of what to say to that, and thankfully he didn’t have to debate about it too much. “Was it worth it?” 

Now that was a question Junmyeon didn’t have to ponder over in the slightest. He didn’t even blink. “Of course. Even with everything that happened, I still love him.” 

“But what do you see in him?” Yixing asked, sounding just as confused as he looked. “It just doesn’t make sense. Why would you fall for someone like him?” 

“It wasn’t an active decision, Yixing. I didn’t wake up one day and tell myself that I was going to force myself to fall in love with him,” Junmyeon said, voice level and calm. “It just happened, like how other people fall in love. I got to know him better. I got to see the side of him he doesn’t show to other people. That’s how I fell for him. And I’ve never loved anyone more than I love him. He’s far from perfect, but I love him anyway.” 

“But what do you _see?”_ Yixing continued, sounding frustrated. “Junmyeon, whether his personality is different around only you, it doesn’t change the fact he’s nothing like you. He’s in his thirties, and you’re in your twenties. He’s a professor, you’re a student. It just doesn’t make _sense.”_

“I _know_ it doesn’t make sense to anyone else, and I’ve stopped trying to figure out how to explain it to everyone who asks. I know we’re nothing alike, but I don’t see why it matters. He loves me and I love him, so why isn’t that sufficient of a reason?” Junmyeon asked, also sounding irritated at this point. “This entire school has painted him as some kind of demon and he’s _nothing_ like that. He’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. He’d go through hell and back for the people he cares about. He—He treats me right, like how I’ve always wanted to be treated. I’m an equal to him, despite our differences. I’ve never once regretted being with him.” 

The others were silent for a long moment. At last it was Zitao who spoke up, sighing briefly before he began. “You sound like you’re in way too deep. You’re completely head over heels for this guy.” 

Junmyeon’s face burned at that comment. The others cast glances to one another, as if wondering what to say next. Junmyeon occupied himself by playing with the hem of his hoodie sleeve. 

“Guys… Look, I know we’ve been arguing a lot and everything, and I know none of this makes sense to you. But… Can you please just think about how I feel too? All semester everyone has been dragging his name through the mud, and I’ve had to listen to so _much_ of it until I just couldn’t take it anymore. I know it wasn’t the best way for you to find out the truth, but I was on a list of very limited options,” Junmyeon murmured, “and I’m sorry that you had to find out that way, with me jumping down your throats and all this extra drama starting. I know it isn’t going to be easy, but I’m hoping we can work on just putting this behind us eventually. I do… I _do_ still want to be friends with you guys. I’m just hoping that my relationship isn’t going to be the catalyst to our friendship dying.” 

Silence. Junmyeon swallowed, feeling completely vulnerable and uncertain of what was going to happen now that he had spread his cards out on the table. The other boys exchanged another round of glances with each other, as if mutely discussing the topic at hand. 

Zitao was the one to face him first, sighing slowly through his nose. “Well, I’m sure all of us are gonna have some issues coming to terms with this, but I’m sure we’ll get over it eventually. Even if you are dating Kris, you’re still Junmyeon.” 

Junmyeon’s face warmed in a smile, and from across the room, Sehun flashed one of his own.

* * *

On Monday morning, the art show launched its debut. Junmyeon squeezed himself into the crowded room, fitted into one of his nicest outfits, trying to make a good impression. Then again, nothing mattered more than walking across the exhibition room to find that one special painting hanging on the wall. 

Junmyeon had stood there merely staring at it for what felt like forever, his cheeks aching as his face lit up in a bright smile. There was an odd surge of pride thrumming through his blood as he admired the painting, knowing perfectly well how hard Yifan had been working on his art. It was _meant_ to be hung upon on a wall for all to see, instead of being crammed behind a stack of others on the floor of a home studio. 

However, he couldn’t seem to get Yifan on board no matter how hard he tried. He had initially just brought up the art show as a topic of random conversation, asking Yifan if he wanted to go and see the artwork. Yifan had merely looked up from his dinner as they sat at the table and gave him a moody stare instead, before calmly stating he was no longer interested in attending. 

After all that had happened – losing his job and therefore his ability to enter the showing – he no longer wanted to give the school, or the art show, a moment of his time. 

However, Junmyeon had been anticipating this event for weeks, and he had put in tremendous effort to put his plan into motion. Yifan’s painting was hanging up in the exhibition room and was receiving tons of compliments and Yifan had no clue. Junmyeon didn’t want to flat-out tell him what was going on, about what he had done, but he was running out of options. The paintings were only going to be on display until the end of the week, and Yifan still hadn’t agreed to ducking in to see them. Junmyeon had asked multiple times, and on Thursday, Yifan had enough of his pestering. 

_“Why do you keep asking me if I’m going to the art show or not?” Yifan snapped grumpily. He was lying on the floor, working on his stabilization exercises. He hated doing them, Junmyeon knew it, but they were much-needed physical therapy to help his recovery. “You’re perfectly aware of the fact that I wasn’t allowed to submit this year, so why do you keep bringing it up around me?”_

_“Because everything comes down on Saturday morning, and you didn’t even go to look,” Junmyeon fussed._

_“There’s no point in me going,” Yifan argued._

_“And if you don’t, you aren’t going to see your painting,” Junmyeon finally snapped, losing his patience._

_Yifan, hips arched off the ground as he worked on a bridge, paused to stare at him. “What did you just say?”_

_“I_ said _that you aren’t going to see your painting,” Junmyeon repeated, folding his arms across his chest. “I submitted one of your paintings to the exhibition without telling you, because I know this ordeal meant a lot to you, and I wanted you to be able to participate.”_

Junmyeon hadn’t been expecting for Yifan to be jumping for joy when he finally found out the news, but he hadn’t been anticipating for Yifan to be angry about it either. He had sat up immediately and had launched into a lecture, asking Junmyeon if he had lost his mind. They had squabbled for a few minutes, before Junmyeon finally gave up, throwing his hands into the air in defeat. Part of him immediately wondered why he had even bothered wasting his time, when Yifan didn’t even seem to care. 

But then again, when he thought about it a bit harder, maybe Yifan cared a little too much. He had been avoiding both the university and the art show as he continued licking at some old wounds. He had sounded distressed when Junmyeon admitted he falsified the submission and had lied to say it was his own painting. Yifan wasn’t ungrateful; he was worried. It was a big risk, Junmyeon knew it was, to lie about something like this. He had already waded into dangerous territory by dating Yifan, and now this on top of it. He knew if anyone was to find out the truth about the painting, the faculty was going to wring his neck. He’d probably get thrown out of school. 

He sighed as he shuffled across the exhibition room. Still, he wished Yifan would have at least said thank you for what he had done… He couldn’t help but feel unappreciated, even if it wasn’t Yifan’s intent. 

At least his friends had stopped by to see it. Hearing the praise over the painting, saying how beautiful it was, did make Junmyeon happy, even if it wasn’t his own work. If only Yifan had come around, he’d be able to hear those sorts of things with his own ears. He needed to hear it; Junmyeon had heard Yifan rip into himself over his work more times than he could count, knocking himself down several pegs at a time, saying his work wasn’t good enough. 

He sighed, holding the painting in his hands as he stared down at it. Well, at least he had tried. Right? 

Absorbed in his own thoughts, Junmyeon nearly jumped out of his skin as something settled against his bicep. His head snapped upwards, finding himself staring into a pair of eyes he had never seen before, a stranger’s hand that had previously been lingering on his arm now awkwardly hovering in the air between them. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!” It was a woman, although she looked a bit too old to be a student. The university was huge, so perhaps she was part of faculty from a department that Junmyeon didn’t know about. He didn’t have too much time to mull over it though, as the woman then gestured to the painting that he was holding. “Is this one yours?” 

Junmyeon blinked a couple times, thrown for a loop. At last, he recovered, and nodded, still clutching the painting tightly in his hands. 

“Oh, fantastic! I’ve been trying to figure out who it belonged to,” she said, and Junmyeon just stood there, unsure as to what was even happening. “Are you in a hurry? I was wondering if I could talk to you about the painting for a few minutes.” 

Dumbfounded, Junmyeon just awkwardly nodded in reply. 

* * *

Yifan’s tongue poked out from between his lips in concentration as he bent over the table, working on lighting up the last candle. Once the flame swallowed the wick, Yifan grinned, extinguishing the match. Perfect. He took a step back and put his hands on his hips, admiring his handiwork. 

Junmyeon had told him he wasn’t going to be free until the evening, so Yifan took advantage of the extra time on Saturday to whip up a surprise dinner. It had been ages since he had cooked so extensively, especially after his surgery, but he wanted to make the day special for Junmyeon. Junmyeon was always the one looking after him, cooking for him, helping him tidy up the apartment with chores he couldn’t handle yet. He deserved something in return, even if it was just a nice dinner. If his back was in better shape, he could drive Junmyeon out somewhere for something better, but he had limited options at the moment. 

That, and he wanted to make it up to Junmyeon. Things had been a little tense between them ever since Junmyeon had mentioned that he had submitted one of his paintings without telling him. He hadn’t meant to jump down Junmyeon’s throat about it, but he had panicked. They were already skating on thin ice, and what Junmyeon had done was extremely high-risk. He had already gotten in trouble with the university, and had managed to get off the hook, but if this backfired, all hell would break loose. 

Still, either way, it didn’t give him an excuse to be nasty. 

He was putting the rest of the food onto the table when he heard the familiar sound of the lock tumbling, before the front door opened. Yifan straightened up, a smile crossing his face as he watched Junmyeon pause in the doorway, clearly confused, before he shuffled inside, closing the door behind himself. 

“What’s all this?” he asked, shedding his backpack and dropping it to the floor. 

“I thought we could have a bit of a classier dinner tonight. You’ve been the one taking care of everything for ages since I had my surgery so I thought this would be a nice place to start,” Yifan explained, “plus it’s been a whole since I got to cook for you, not the other way around. And, uh, to say sorry. I know I kind of…overreacted, I guess is the proper word here, when you told me about what you did. I shouldn’t have gotten angry. You were just trying to help me. I just…wanted to apologize.” 

Junmyeon stared at the dining room table, clearly struggling to take in the sight. And after a few moments of processing in silence, he let out a snort of laughter as he shook his head, stepping forward. Yifan blinked in confusion as Junmyeon suddenly reached out and circled his arms around his torso in a hug. 

“God, you’re such a cheeseball,” Junmyeon muttered. “It’s fine. I forgive you. We just need to work on your temper.” 

The back of Yifan’s neck reddened, and he sheepishly nodded, awkwardly patting Junmyeon on the back. When the hug ended, Junmyeon broke away from him, and something then clicked inside Yifan’s head. 

Junmyeon was empty-handed. 

“Wait, didn’t the show end today?” Yifan asked, thick eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. “Where’s the painting?” 

“Oh, that’s right! I forgot,” Junmyeon said, suddenly patting himself down, before he reached into his pocket. Yifan frowned, watching Junmyeon extract what looked like a slip of paper from the depths of his pocket. Junmyeon then reached out and handed it over to Yifan. “Here.” 

Stumped, Yifan took it into his hand and began to unfold it. He opened his mouth to voice his confusion, but upon opening the slip, his words died in the back of his throat. 

It was a check. 

“I met a woman this morning; her name was Minyoung and she was really nice. Anyway, that’s beside the point. We did some talking and she’s actually faculty at the art university in the neighboring city,” Junmyeon explained. Yifan on the other hand was just silently standing there, still as a statue and staring at the check in his hands. “She adored your painting and wanted to know if it was for sale. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you about it first, but I thought it’d be better just to get it off your hands since I know you—Wait, Yifan, what’s wrong?” 

At some point during Junmyeon’s explanation, reality chose to backhand Yifan across the face. It all came crashing down on him and Yifan had immediately started crying, bowing his head and carelessly let the tears roll down his cheeks. Junmyeon frowned worriedly and stepped closer, already placing his hands on Yifan’s arms in concern, as Yifan was sobbing harder and harder by the minute, his face turning red and hiccups forcing their way out of his throat. 

“Yifan?” Junmyeon tried again, concern plastered across his face, clearly unsure of what to do, because Yifan seemed on the cusp of a total and complete meltdown. He let out a soft gasp of surprise when Yifan suddenly lunged at him, long arms caging around him and _crushing_ him. Junmyeon let out a pained grunt, feeling something crack in his upper back as Yifan pulled him into his chest, trapping him there as he squeezed Junmyeon in a tight hug. He felt Yifan’s ribcage jump, another pained hiccup tearing out of him, before he felt the sharp curve of Yifan’s chin digging into his shoulder as Yifan curled in on himself, still coiled around Junmyeon in an embrace. Yifan was crying so hard he couldn’t even talk, and despite everything, Junmyeon willed himself to relax. And even though Yifan was bawling his eyes out, Junmyeon couldn’t help but smile, knowing that they were in fact ones of happiness. Junmyeon patted his palm against Yifan then, trying to comfort him, despite his limited movement. “You’re welcome, Yifan.” 

His only response was a set of pathetic snivels, but Junmyeon didn’t mind one bit. 

* * *

It had been a long and bumpy road, but Junmyeon completed his first semester of college. Thankfully, his studying had paid off. His results from final exams came in the following week, and Junmyeon couldn’t stop himself from grinning widely as he checked his grades on his phone. He had worked himself to the bone, and he had been successful. He felt so warm and proud when he had showed his grades to Yifan, and received a ‘I’m very proud of you’ in return. 

Once finals ended, Junmyeon lugged his suitcase out of the closet, and began to pack up some of his belongings. It was mainly just clothes; after all, he’d be back in a few weeks. After he loaded up his bag, he handed out his goodbyes. He shared a big bear hug with Sehun. The younger boy was heading home to his parents’ house over the winter break. They wouldn’t see each other until next semester, but Junmyeon promised to keep in touch, and he meant it. 

He was still on a bit of a rocky slope with Zitao and Yixing, but he intended to keep contact with them as well during the holiday season, even if it was only text messages and shared social media posts. 

He had dragged his suitcase onto the bus, and lugged it up the stairs of a familiar apartment building. When he fitted the spare key into the lock of the front door and pushed it open, being greeted by Yifan’s smiling face as he stood in the living room, Junmyeon finally felt like he was home. 

Yifan helped him unpack his belongings, and Junmyeon didn’t bother trying to find a separate spot for his own things. He had spent so much time in Yifan’s apartment already that their laundry was mixed together and their wardrobes had meshed into one. 

“What do you mean you’ve never decorated a Christmas tree before?” Yifan asked in disbelief, pausing in slicing open a taped box. He yanked at the flaps, being greeted by a box full of ornaments. 

“We didn’t celebrate it in my family,” Junmyeon said, shrugging his shoulders loosely as he worked on cutting open the box containing the tree. He succeeded, moved the flaps, and began to lug out the pieces of the tree, setting them on the floor. “Different religion and whatnot.” 

“Well, even if you don’t celebrate it, you can help me out with mine,” Yifan commented, “if you don’t mind, since I can’t bend over anymore…or lift it…at least not until my back heals up more.” 

“It’s fine,” Junmyeon murmured, tongue peeking out between his lips in concentration as he worked on assembling the tree. Putting the largest section into the base, he moved onto the second piece. “I think it’ll be a fun experience. I don’t mind.” 

He did enjoy it. After assembling the tree back together, he worked on awkwardly pushing it across the carpet to try to direct it further into a corner. Of course, with his luck, it wound up tipping over, and falling right on top of him. Thankfully, it was only seven feet, so he didn’t get _too_ crushed. He knew he must have looked a mess, so he couldn’t be too upset when Yifan cracked up laughing at him. 

Together, they decorated the tree. With Yifan having issues bending over, and being taller regardless, he focused on the top half, while Junmyeon tended to the bottom of it. He helped Yifan decorate the rest of the apartment, and after, Junmyeon found himself laughing to some joke Yifan had cracked as the two of them worked on making some Christmas-themed cookies together. 

“Aren’t you going to answer your phone?” Yifan asked, glancing over at Junmyeon. There was a lump of red-dyed dough spread out on a baking sheet. Yifan was cutting out shapes with a cookie cutter while Junmyeon rolled out the ball of dough they had dyed green. Across the apartment, Junmyeon’s phone continued to vibrate loudly on the dining room table. It had rung twice already, but Junmyeon refused to answer it. “Maybe it’s important.” 

“It’s my dad,” Junmyeon muttered, shaking his head. “He’s probably only calling because he needs something.” 

“Still, maybe you should just answer it so he’ll stop calling,” Yifan replied, cutting out another star from the dough and laying it aside. “And just to get it over with, because if you don’t answer, this problem is just going to progress.” 

Well, that did make sense. Still, Junmyeon didn’t want to talk to him. He hadn’t heard from his father in months. Something had definitely happened, but Junmyeon didn’t know what. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the specifics though; talking to his father never seemed to end well. He bit his lip, pausing in rolling out the sum of dough to glance across the kitchen, in the direction of his phone. The incoming call had stopped for now. And finally, wiping his hands off on a dishtowel, he sighed, knowing Yifan had a point. He could hear Sehun’s voice in the back of his mind, calling him out on his fear of confrontation. Sometimes he wondered if the people around him knew him better than he knew himself, because it certainly seemed that way. 

“I’ll answer the next one.” 

The next call came after they had already put the first tray of cookies into the oven. Yifan had lugged out two glasses and had poured him his first taste of eggnog. It seemed to fit well with the season, and the fact that there was still snow on the ground outside. Yifan had already warned him that it had alcohol, so he’d have to make sure not to go overboard on it, not wanting Junmyeon to be stumbling around drunk in his apartment. 

And he kept his word. When the call came in, Junmyeon sighed, setting the glass down and instead plucking up his phone from the table. From under Yifan’s curious gaze, Junmyeon accepted the call. 

“Hello?” he started, his voice so much smaller than he intended for it to be. 

_“Junmyeon?”_ Even now, his father’s voice made his skin crawl. Junmyeon wasn’t sure if he had ever heard his name spoken from the man’s lips with love. _“Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”_

“I’ve been busy today,” Junmyeon muttered, being honest. “Why?” 

_“We’re running short-staffed for the season,”_ the man began, and Junmyeon’s heart sank, already having predicted that he was only being contacted for what he could offer. _“I need you back here in the next couple of days to help.”_

“Dad—No,” Junmyeon started, his voice wavering, still not fully accustomed to trying to stand up for himself. “I’m not coming back there just to help out with your business. You know I’ve never wanted to be a businessman—“ 

_“This isn’t about you!”_ the man snapped, and Junmyeon paused, throat bobbing as he swallowed. Yifan, beside him, had his features clouding over with worry. He couldn’t hear the conversation, but he could tell Junmyeon’s mood was plummeting because of it. _“Why do you always have to make everything about yourself, Junmyeon? I didn’t ask for your input about what you want to be. I just need you here. That’s it.”_

Junmyeon was silent for a long moment, eyes unfocused as they stared down at his lap. 

_“Junmyeon,”_ his father continued, irritation painting his voice. _“Answer me when I’m speaking to you.”_

Swallowing once more, Junmyeon clenched up his free hand into a fist, and tried to gather the small bit of courage that was hiding deep within his cowardly heart. “I’m not coming, and you can’t make me either. I’ve already said that I want nothing to do with this. If you can’t handle that, then that’s your problem, not mine.” 

A collection of shouting emitting from the speaker of his phone as he lowered it. Junmyeon tried to block it out, his hands literally shaking as he forced his finger over the red button, pressing it to end the call. He dropped the phone onto the couch and let out a shaky breath, hunching over and burying his face into his hands. 

He could count the times he had stood up to his father on one hand, and doing so still took every bit of strength and bravery he had. 

Yifan’s palm smoothed over his back, big and warm and comforting and Junmyeon, for a moment, felt like he was going to cry. Yifan shushed him quietly, as if trying to calm him, and gave him another pat on the back. 

“You did well,” he murmured, his deep voice oddly soothing right then, “you’re starting to stand up for yourself more. I’m proud of you.” 

Face still buried into the depths of his hands, Junmyeon merely leaned over a bit more, finding refuge in Yifan’s large frame. It felt so much more like home than anything else ever did. 

* * *

Winter break passed quickly, much too fast for Junmyeon’s liking. He had voiced his concerns about getting a job during the holiday, and Yifan merely shrugged, not seeming worried about it. But Junmyeon didn’t enjoy the thought of being a freeloader. He had to pull his weight too. So, he sent out some job applications, managing to snag a cashier position at a shop not far from Yifan’s complex. He was only a temporary employee for the holiday season, but it was better than nothing. 

While he was out, Yifan busied himself with taking up art again. He had been painting like a madman over the past month. It seemed like now that he was free of his job, he was beginning to regain his spark. Junmyeon didn’t think he had ever seen Yifan work so hard on his art. It was difficult just to pull him away from his art supplies to get him to eat and help out with the chores. 

“You need to be careful,” Junmyeon fussed often, “you’re going to get burned out if you don’t take some breaks.” 

Well, at least Yifan was finally enjoying himself again and finding motivation to do his art projects. He was sure that he had an extra push now too that he had sold his first painting a few months ago. 

When his second semester began, Junmyeon submitted the paperwork, and officially changed his major. It wasn’t going to be easy, being a double major of fashion design and fashion merchandising, but he knew he could do it. Yifan had been his biggest supporter over the months, and he still was, merely flashing Junmyeon a smile as he looked up from his painting. He peeked out over the rims of his glasses and merely chuckled, saying that he knew fashion would be a perfect fit for Junmyeon. 

On another positive note, despite all that had happened in their group, Junmyeon was still talking with his friends. When he and Sehun met each other again for the first time since moving back into the dorms, Sehun swooped in and wrangled him up in a bone-crushing hug, leaving Junmyeon wheezing and laughing all at once. On their first day back in the dorms, they all met up for a casual dinner together at the dining hall. Things were a bit awkward at first, as they hadn’t seen each other in weeks, but the atmosphere slowly began to relax bit by bit as they talked. 

“How’s Kris, anyway?” Zitao asked, no venom in his voice, only curiosity. “You guys still together?” 

Junmyeon’s cheeks turned a pastel shade of pink as he paused in eating his salad. “Um, yeah. We’re still together. He’s doing really well, actually. The physical therapist said he’s been making a ton of progress over the past couple months and his back is healing up well. He’s been painting a lot lately too. That’s been about it. I didn’t do much on break aside from some retail work and hanging out at his place.” 

Yixing’s lips quirked in an entertained grin. “You always get red whenever you talk about him.” 

Junmyeon’s cheeks flushed darker nearly on command. The others let out a chorus of amused laughs, but Junmyeon didn’t mind it. After all, how could he be upset, when Yifan – a man who was previously nothing more than a taboo subject – was now someone he could talk about freely, and didn’t have to listen to snarky negative comments in return? 

It seemed like all everyone had needed was time to recover, because even after what had happened the previous semester, no one brought it up, and no one seemed to mind anymore. 

It was such a freeing, relieving feeling. 

* * *

Second verse, same as the first, Junmyeon continued to tell himself, day in and day out. Although it was a new semester, things didn’t feel any different. Rise and grind, he told himself, because at the end of the day, that was all he could control. Even if his professors weren’t entirely fond of him or some students were better than him, he had to keep chugging along. 

And so he did. Weeks trickled away into months and Junmyeon felt so free when he finally completed his first year at the university. He had been craving a break, and now he had one. He hadn’t bothered to reclaim his dorm room for the following year. He had come to an agreement with Sehun that they would definitely keep in touch and continue to hang out, but Junmyeon decided to leave the dorm in favor of taking Yifan up on his offer of moving in with him. 

Thankfully, Yifan’s back was in better shape by that time, so he didn’t have to lug _all_ of his belongings up the four flights of stairs all by himself. It didn’t take much getting used to, living with Yifan; Junmyeon had spent so much time inside of Yifan’s apartment that by the time he officially moved in, it didn’t feel like anything had changed. Well, aside from his belongings becoming mixed in with Yifan’s. 

It felt so much more peaceful though, being an official resident. He no longer had to run back and forth between his room and Yifan’s apartment nonstop. Sure, it was a little longer of a trek to his classes and back now, since he wasn’t living on campus anymore, but Junmyeon liked it so much better this way. 

Yifan’s apartment felt so much more like home than the dorms. 

During summer break, Junmyeon had shyly asked Yifan if he could teach him more about motorcycles. Aside from wanting to eliminate his still-lingering fear of them, spending so much time on the back of one because of Yifan, well, it made him curious as to what it was like to ride one himself. 

Yifan had just shrugged, casually as always, and said he could teach him. 

It wasn’t an easy process, though. Junmyeon didn’t know how to drive at all, so it was starting from literally nothing and working their way up. There had been multiple close calls where the bike nearly tipped over when Junmyeon was first learning, and Yifan had squawked like a baby bird, diving in and barely managing to save it from an unfortunate fate against asphalt. 

But over many, many weeks, Junmyeon began to improve. While initially he couldn’t even sit on the bike without being nervous, he at last was able to ride. Yifan was his biggest supporter even then, watching from the sidelines when Junmyeon took the examination. He managed to make it through in one piece, and with so few errors, that he was rewarded with his license. 

Junmyeon had literally jumped on Yifan in the parking lot, shrieking in excitement as he held his custom-fit motorcycle helmet in one hand, one that Yifan had willingly purchased for him after he had expressed his interest in being a motorcyclist too. 

On the topic of motorcycles, it took _months_ for Yifan to finally feel comfortable enough to climb back onto a motorcycle. He hadn’t been immediately trying to ride again, only taking the bike to the store if he needed to grab a few things and come back to the apartment. The surgeon had mentioned that he should take things slow, and only do them at his own pace when he finally felt comfortable enough to do so. 

Interestingly enough, that suggestion also applied to their bedroom life. 

For a long while, Yifan had been in too much pain to even consider them having sex. He didn’t feel _ready_ until several months after surgery. In the meantime, they had lived on touch and experimentation. Junmyeon had never given a blowjob in his entire life, but during their no sex period, he finally gave it a try. It hadn’t ended very well; it was too much at once and he choked when Yifan reflexively stabbed his hips upwards and shoved his cock further into his mouth. 

Yifan stroking his fingers through his hair and telling him he was doing well while he performed was a great comfort to his battered ego, but Yifan deciding to turn the tables was an even better reward. Junmyeon wasn’t sure if he had ever shrieked that loud in his entire life when Yifan slammed his head down between his legs and blew him like it was the only chance he was ever going to have. 

But outside of those moments, and the times when they merely touched one another, there hadn’t been actual _sex_ since Yifan had hurt himself. Halfway through his second semester, Yifan had brought it up, mentioning that he wanted to give it a try. Junmyeon had been worried, of course, concerned they might damage Yifan’s still-healing fusion. But Yifan waved him away, saying they would go slow and if it began to hurt, they would stop. 

It had been a mess. Yifan had struggled big time, trying to find a pace and move at a good rhythm, but it wasn’t working out for him. The sex had been slow and extremely awkward, and Junmyeon couldn’t help but laugh then, because it _was_ funny watching Yifan move back and forth as if he didn’t know what to do, as if he was a virgin himself. 

But that had been months ago, and with the end of Junmyeon’s freshman year approaching, Yifan had definitely made a lot of improvement in the bedroom. 

“Yifa—ah, ah, _aah—”_ Junmyeon moaned, voice rising in pitch with every whine. It felt so good to have Yifan between his legs, as if he belonged there, as if his _cock_ belonged there. He was so full and felt so squished, as Yifan had his hands cupped beneath his thighs, practically shoving Junmyeon’s knees into his throat as he bent the smaller boy in half, and pounding away inside of him. “ _Fuck,_ Yifan—Too ha— _uh –_ hard—” 

“You’re the one who told me you like it when I’m rough,” Yifan commented, rearing back on his knees before _slamming_ inside, a smirk crossing his lips when Junmyeon threw his head back into the mound of pillows and moaned as loud as his lungs let him. “Look at you, Junmyeon, you’re so greedy during sex. You like me fucking you like there’s no tomorrow, don’t you?” 

Junmyeon bit his lip, already red and swollen from Yifan’s nips and too-hard kisses when they had been undressing. It was true. He did like it. It felt like ages ago when he had first laid down with Yifan, shyly and slowly letting Yifan take him. This, _this_ was nothing like that. This was so much faster and harder and Junmyeon hadn’t ever dreamed that he would be able to handle Yifan pounding into him like this. 

Yifan suddenly stilled, buried balls-deep into his lover. Junmyeon groaned low and long from beneath him in frustration, hands pawing at Yifan, fingernails scraping over the sharp cut of his hipbones. 

“Yifan, _move_ ,” Junmyeon complained, feeling that sweet heat in his belly cool down at the lack of stimulation. He wanted to cum, and he wasn’t going to get there by just lying there doing nothing. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Yifan said coolly, arching an eyebrow. “And listen to you, you’re so bossy today. Tell me what you want, since you want to talk.” 

“I want _you._ I want you to move, I _need_ you to,” Junmyeon whined, arching his back off the bed, trying and failing to wiggle a bit further down the bed and impale himself even more on Yifan’s cock. “Yifan, _please_ , don’t be mean, I was so close—" 

“Maybe I should be mean,” Yifan interrupted, and Junmyeon let out a strangled noise of frustration as he felt Yifan began to pull out until there was nothing left. He was so _empty,_ and he hated it. “I’m not even close yet and here you are talking about blowing before we’re finished.” 

Yifan grabbed him by the waist, and Junmyeon let out a yelp as Yifan suddenly flipped him over, flat of his belly on the bed. Yifan’s hands grabbed him by the hips and _yanked,_ successfully dragging Junmyeon up onto his knees as his torso remained on the bedding. And before he could speak, Yifan suddenly slapped him _hard_ across the rear, so roughly Junmyeon could have sworn he felt his ass jiggle. 

Five more left him yowling and Yifan’s hand, big and warm and perfect, smoothed over the pinkened skin of his ass, kneading it slowly. He seemed to be satisfied by Junmyeon’s lack of sass after that mini punishment and Junmyeon moaned loud and deep into Yifan’s pillow when the man plunged back inside. 

They didn’t always do things this way. Some days, they took it slow, and Yifan showered him with praise and gentle touches, and treated him like he was a prince. Some days, he felt confident, and clambered into Yifan’s lap to ride him. And some days, he gave up all control to Yifan, like right now. He was physically very strong, but sometimes, it was satisfying to be manhandled. It felt good to get his ass swatted when he was a bit too mouthy and it felt good to be vocal about what he was feeling and what he wanted. He knew the control of the reigns went straight to Yifan’s ego, and it was a bit easier for him to fall into a more dominant mode than normal when he had that much confidence thrumming in his blood. 

But no matter how his sex with Yifan ended up, Junmyeon loved it most when he was bare, cumming deep inside him and truly marking him like no one else ever had, and never would. 

“God, you’re so perfect,” Yifan muttered, sweaty palms slipping around Junmyeon’s hips and tightening to maintain his grip. His bedframe was creaking violently underneath them and as Yifan picked up the pace, Junmyeon could hear the familiar bang of the headboard smacking against the wall. Over, and over, and _over,_ coupled so perfectly to the feeling of his cock slamming in and out of him, scraping against every pleasure point that lined his insides and against that sensitive bundles of nerves planted deep within him. “You’re so _wonderful,_ babe, you know that?” 

Junmyeon whimpered back at him. There were tears in his eyes and his cock was red as it bobbed between his legs. Yifan’s thrusts were sending him toppling forward before he was yanked back by the hands curled around his hips, and he wondered just how much more he could even take. 

Yifan’s hand was his savior and Junmyeon moaned so _loudly_ when it wrapped around him. He couldn’t control himself. As soon as Yifan wrapped those thick fingers around his cock, Junmyeon burst, shaking and shrieking as he _instantly_ squirted his enthusiasm right into Yifan’s palm. 

And Yifan stroked him through every grueling moment, his fingers dripping wet with Junmyeon’s release, dragging out his orgasm that much longer, making him that much more lightheaded. 

Yifan’s free hand traced the pink pattern tattooed into Junmyeon’s right ass cheek from his palm. Junmyeon was empty and panting and it was only then that Yifan unfurled his hand from his slowly softening dick. He felt the slickness of the man’s palm settling on the opposite cheek, forcing them apart just a bit more, greedily managing to push himself in just _that much more._

And let out a strangled grunt as he came, and Junmyeon loved every moment of it. 

The afterglow was always so wonderful after he slept with Yifan. He felt almost drunk on it, his brain heavy and hazy and he didn’t have the energy to move afterwards. His eyes had fallen shut immediately and Junmyeon began to doze, letting Yifan tend to cleanup for the night. 

However, when he came to, and opened his eyes again, Yifan was gone. 

Junmyeon slid to the edge of the bed and frowned, heaving himself to his feet. His knees felt like jelly and his ass was stinging from Yifan’s smacks. Not bothering to get dressed, he padded out into the hallway, wondering if Yifan was in the shower. However, he could hear a voice he didn’t recognize, and, curiosity getting the best of him, Junmyeon headed out towards the living room. 

“What are you watching?” Junmyeon asked sleepily, figuring that he had been out for a while, and Yifan was busy watching TV. 

However, halfway into the living room, Junmyeon froze as he realized there was a man standing in the entranceway. A man in uniform, to be precise, and Junmyeon stopped, understanding there was a _cop_ in their apartment. Yifan was speaking to him, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he stood there in his underwear, visible scratch marks running down his shoulder blades and hickeys on his neck. Of course, knowing Junmyeon’s luck, they both paused to look at him, and Junmyeon only then remembered that he was naked. 

The cop’s cheeks were red and he let out an awkward cough, quickly looking away from Junmyeon, who had gone scurrying back into the bedroom in embarrassment. He dove back into the bed, barely managing to avoid the spot of cum that stained their bedsheets, and groaned into the mattress, feeling entirely ashamed of himself. 

A few minutes later, he heard the patter of footsteps he had come to love. 

“He’s gone, Junmyeon,” Yifan muttered. The bed sank a little more from his weight as Yifan perched himself on the edge. “Sorry. I thought you were still asleep. I would’ve warned you otherwise that we had company.” 

“What did he want?” Junmyeon groaned embarrassedly into the pillow, not trying to think about the fact he had just walked out stark naked in front of a stranger. 

“Noise complaint,” Yifan muttered. Junmyeon felt the weight of his hand on his lower back, massaging gently, as if worried that he had been too rough. “One of the neighbors apparently called the cops thinking someone was in danger because there was a ton of screaming coming from our apartment.” 

Junmyeon was thankful that his face was buried into the pillow so that Yifan couldn’t see how red his face was at the moment. 

“I think that’s a new record,” Yifan commented, once he realized Junmyeon wasn’t going to respond. “I don’t think I’ve ever made you scream so much that we’ve had the cops called on us before. I wonder what else I can make come out of that mouth.” 

“ _Stop_ ,” Junmyeon moaned in complaint, blindly reaching out and swatting at Yifan’s bare thigh. Yifan merely laughed in response, seeming unbothered. “You’re so embarrassing.” 

“Me? I’m not the one who just walked out buck-ass naked in front of a police officer,” Yifan said calmly. 

_Touché,_ Junmyeon thought to himself, internally wondering if he could manage to suffocate himself. At least then he wouldn’t be this embarrassed. 

* * *

As Junmyeon spent his entire freshman year completing his general education classes, it wasn’t until sophomore year that he at last had the opportunity to dip his toes into the courses fixated around his major. He was a little nervous, sure, as it was such a big change of pace, and he wondered if he would be able to keep up with everyone else. He had struggled greatly during introduction to painting, after all. And although these classes weren’t going to be easy, he hoped it would all be worth it. 

He was sure he was going to be a jack of all trades by the time he finished school regardless. Sure, fashion design and fashion merchandising may have harbored similarities, but they were different majors. He had so much to learn about: textiles, fabrics, accounting, culture, history, designing, patterns, sewing… It was going to be some tough remaining three years, but he had faith that he could do it. It helped his case that he was a patient person; he was going to be needing a _lot_ of it. 

His classes so far were all introductory, with a few general education classes sprinkled in, but Junmyeon was enjoying them so far. There were many projects, and tons more to come, but being hands-on felt better to him than merely shoving his nose into a textbook. One class he didn’t expect to like as much as he did, when he first signed up for it, was fashion sketching. He wasn’t an amazing artist, and proportions were something he was still trying to nail, but he was enjoying it. He was able to, bit by bit, extract the images from his mind and put them down on paper. Outfits he had daydreamed about were carved out via a pencil. Some nights, when Yifan sat in his studio and painted, old t-shirt stretched over his broad yet bony shoulders, Junmyeon couldn’t help but imagine what he would look like wearing some of his designs. 

It was one reason that the figures in his sketches had body types that mimicked Yifan’s so closely. 

His life finally seemed to be coming together properly. His courses may have been difficult, but he was finally enjoying the challenge. He was at last excited to duck into his lectures and to chip away at projects. He found out there was a fashion club on campus; maybe next semester when he had a bit more experience, he could join. Perhaps he would make a few friends along the way. Better yet, there were still plenty of opportunities for him down the road that had him giddy with excitement just thinking about them. He had heard from the others in his class that every fashion design major was required to complete an extensive project before graduation, and that a select few would be chosen to be put on display during a special exhibition on campus. 

He wanted to be one of those few lucky kids. 

Junmyeon was glad to see Yifan’s luck beginning to turn around too. He could remember how down on himself Yifan used to be, spitting pure venom about himself, his life, his work. He ripped himself apart and knocked himself down peg by peg, not having a shred of pride in his creations anymore. But he was changing; he _had_ and he still was, day by day. 

Junmyeon wasn’t sure if he had ever seen Yifan so happy. 

Yifan had never been a man full of a bubbly personality, and he still wasn’t, but Junmyeon could map out the changes within him with pinpoint precision. He was getting a full night’s rest daily. His eyes no longer looked so tired, even from behind the thick rims of his glasses. He was still grumpy and stubborn, sure, but his face seemed so much softer, as if some tension that Junmyeon couldn’t quite understand had finally drained from his veins. He smiled so much more these days, gentle and warm and so loving and those brief flashes of happiness never failed to make Junmyeon feel warm from his head to his toes. 

And on the subject of exhibitions, Yifan finally, at long last, was chipping away at his dreams. After that one painting sold at the art show at the college, it was like a domino effect. Yifan began to work that much harder, and as time passed, his luck finally seemed to be turning around for him. Invitations began to fall into his lap one by one and Junmyeon wasn’t sure if he had ever seen a smile _that_ big on Yifan’s face, when he had found his first exhibition request letter in the mail. 

It was a quiet process in Junmyeon’s eyes. One moment, the painting was settled within the four walls of Yifan’s studio, and the next, sold quietly and vanished. 

His dream of becoming an artist was finally coming true. 

“I’m so proud of you. You’ve come a long way,” Junmyeon murmured. He smoothed his palm over the crisp white of Yifan’s button-up shirt, steamed and free of wrinkles. The blazer came next and Junmyeon’s smile was warm as he helped Yifan with his necktie, small fingers working creating a perfect, intricate knot. The face of a tiger embroidered into the fabric greeted him when finished, and Junmyeon lifted his chin a little more to face Yifan entirely, hands still lingering upon his body. Yifan’s exhibition was in an hour, and it was the largest one he had been to so far. He was nervous. Junmyeon hoped he could soothe away his worries. “You’re going to do amazing tonight.” 

Yifan’s smile was wobbly and anxious and Junmyeon merely tutted under his breath before lacing his fingers around the back of Yifan’s neck. He pulled the man’s head down a little more and before Yifan could speak, Junmyeon kissed him, slow and loving. Yifan was tense for only a moment longer, shoulders sagging as he began to kiss Junmyeon back, his hands wandering until they found their home on Junmyeon’s hipbones. 

Junmyeon pulled away with a chuckle and playfully dragged his nails across Yifan’s nape. “I’ll give you a better reward later tonight.” 

The skin upon the back of his neck grew hotter underneath Junmyeon’s palm as it reddened in a blush. Yifan furrowed his eyebrows, clearly embarrassed. “I didn’t know you could be this shameless. Is this the same shy boy with no experience I met nearly two years ago that I’m speaking to right now?” 

Junmyeon just laughed, tightening his grip around Yifan’s neck, before dragging him back down for another round of clumsy kisses, peppered with his giggling. 

* * *

Junmyeon’s previous birthday had been on a day that was full of warmth and sunshine. He could remember eating ice cream cake and the rays of the summer light shining over his skin. The air conditioning in Yifan’s apartment had been broken and despite how muggy it felt, Junmyeon found himself leaning against Yifan on the couch anyway, a half-eaten and rapidly melting blue raspberry flavored popsicle hanging out of his mouth as he peeled away the wrapping paper of his gift. 

Yifan’s big day felt so much different. They woke that morning to gray overcast skies and chilly winds and rain pattering against the window. But it was the weekend, and neither of them were in a rush to get up and go anywhere. It was a lazy morning, consisting of Yifan rolling over in bed to steal a few sluggish kisses from him, before merely burrowing back down into the mattress to go back to sleep. 

He was sure the way he clambered on top of Yifan to show him how much he loved him didn’t really help with the fatigue. 

But it was the slow days like those that Junmyeon liked the most. Sure, it was good to have some excitement in life, but there was a point where too much just made him stressed out and tired. It was one reason why he didn’t hang out with Sehun and the others every weekend, even when he wasn’t up to his eyeballs in schoolwork. Sometimes, he just needed a quiet and peaceful lazy day at home. 

Even if he was working, having a serene environment made a world of difference. 

Junmyeon glanced over his shoulder. Yifan was perched in his usual seat, right hand moving with slow, steady strokes as he painted. Junmyeon, across the room from him at his own workstation – a large desk that Yifan had purchased for him – turned back around to face his work. Yifan had never been much of a talker, even to this day. He was more vocal than he used to be, but Junmyeon could never classify him as a chatterbox. When Yifan was working on his art, it was difficult to even pull a sentence out of him. He was the type who became fully absorbed into what he was doing and having a discussion was only a form of distraction for him. For Junmyeon, who also needed silence when he was chugging along through his schoolwork, found that as a blessing. It meant the two of them could sit in silence without it being awkward. 

There was a faint whirring noise sounding within the room. Junmyeon’s eyes squinted a little in concentration, his toes pressing a little harder on the pressure foot. He would have never predicted that he’d be in his mid-twenties and hunched over a sewing machine. It wasn’t always easy, assembling these clothing projects from scratch, but Junmyeon had no regrets. There was something oddly satisfying about it, knowing that he had created entire outfits from complete scratch. From start to finish, his course required him to do it all. His most current was nearly finished. After tedious moments of measurements, pattern drafting, adding interfacing, and attaching all the pieces together, he was at last about to cross the finish line. 

He took his foot off the pedal and swept up the jacket, snipping off the small bits of stray thread, grinning to himself as he did so. At least the measuring part of the process had become easier. He could still recall the first time he had tried to use Yifan as his model and take his measurements. He hadn’t nagged Yifan that much during the entire course of their relationship. 

_“Stand up straight!” “You have to hold still, Yifan! I can’t get an accurate measurement unless you quit moving!” “I know you’re ticklish, just try to fight it until I’m done.” “Stop trying to suck your stomach in, you’re going to screw up my numbers.”_

Satisfied, jacket in hand, Junmyeon hopped out of his chair and padded across the room. 

He came to a halt beside Yifan, free hand immediately drifting down and ghosting over his lower back, having memorized the exact coordinates of the scar that scaled the column of his spine. 

“Can you try this on for me?” Junmyeon requested, his palm still lingering in place, even as the older man arched himself up in a tired and much-needed stretch. 

“Yeah, sure,” Yifan muttered, reaching to the side and depositing his dirty paintbrush into the nearby cup of water. “I need a break anyway. My eyes are so dry and achy right now it’s ridiculous.” 

Heaving himself to his feet, Yifan began to shrug on the jacket. Out of habit, Junmyeon assisted the best he could, moving his hand over the rear to smooth out any lingering wrinkles. Yifan was quiet as he buttoned up the front, before dropping his hands to his sides, and glanced at Junmyeon for feedback. 

As usual, Junmyeon’s face warmed, a beaming smile overtaking his features. “Everything always looks so good on you.” 

“One advantage of having a nice face,” Yifan said teasingly, smirk upon his lips when Junmyeon merely rolled his eyes. “Plus, an even larger aspect to this is your hard work. Something well-made has a much higher chance of looking nice on someone’s body.” 

Smiling, Junmyeon’s eyes twinkled silently in happiness. 

* * *

It didn’t matter how many art shows Yifan went to; every one, without fail, made him restless and anxious. He wanted to prove himself, to show the world that he was good enough, that everyone who had ever told him that his art was nothing more than a disaster, was wrong. 

Junmyeon had an exam in the morning, so he couldn’t stay long. It always made Yifan feel so _loved_ whenever Junmyeon came to his exhibitions. He hadn’t missed a single one, even stopping by on his busiest of days. Junmyeon’s schedule was packed now more than ever; he was on the downhill slide of his college career and with all of his courses being core classes oriented around his major, the projects never stopped. 

He had to make time in his schedule to swing by the art shows, but he always did. 

His life wasn’t perfect, but Yifan could dare say now that he was happy. Losing his job as a professor may have been one of the unexpected positives in his life. It stung back then but it altered his path into something he had always wanted. He and Junmyeon were still together. And with passing time, his friendship with Luhan finally settled onto solid ground again. They still had their fights every now and again, but they were more-so only squabbling and not ripping each other’s throats out like they used to do. They had definitely come a long way. 

“I think this one is one of your best,” Luhan commented, hands in his pockets as he admired the painting. It was definitely one of the biggest that Yifan had created too, the size of its canvas practically mirroring Yifan’s height, and decorated with an intricate painting of a chain of snow-covered mountains, evergreen trees sprinkled along the foreground. “I really like it.” 

“Thanks,” Yifan replied, his cheeks puffing up slightly as a flattered smile crossed his face. “It was really difficult, since there are so many whites, grays, and blues, but I think it turned out really well in the end.” 

“Oh, definitely,” Luhan agreed. Turning his attention away from the painting, he faced Yifan instead. “So, what’s new in your neck of the woods? Aside from painting nonstop and hopping from exhibition to exhibition?” 

“Not much, really. Painting, chores around the house, being Junmyeon’s figure model for when he whips up a new project,” Yifan said. He had already told Luhan about Junmyeon switching majors; Luhan had whole-heartedly agreed to it, saying it was a good fit for him. “What about you?” 

“The usual. I do my lectures, I assign research papers, then complain outside of class, wondering why I did that, because I don’t want to grade them.” 

Yifan laughed; he definitely didn’t miss grading. It was one of the things he hated most about being a professor. Well, one of many reasons. 

Since they now worked in two different locations, and their work schedules didn’t match up as much as it used to, since Yifan now worked from home and could stop and start whenever he wanted. It could be difficult for the two of them to meet up with each other. They took advantage of the exhibition for that reason, standing around and talking. Luhan quieted down whenever someone came by to look at Yifan’s painting, not wanting to interrupt. 

Eventually, the showing began to wind down entirely. Luhan, after making his rounds to see the other artwork, swung by a final time to bid farewell to Yifan, before he left for the night. 

Alone at last, Yifan checked his watch. Thirty more minutes before he could call it a day and head home. His stomach growled. He’d have to find something quick and easy to cook when he made it home. Regardless, he smiled. 

Life was good. 

* * *

By the time Junmyeon entered his senior year, Yifan’s career finally seemed to be lifting off the ground entirely. It was hard, balancing the supply out with the demand. It was hard work, but he loved it; it was perfect, holing himself up in his studio all day to paint, feeling the love of his craft trickling down into his veins again. _This_ was what happiness felt like. 

Junmyeon seemed happier too these days, despite how he was drowning in schoolwork. He knew Junmyeon was just ready to be done with school at this point, tired of the stress and sleepless nights. Still, with hard work came great rewards, and Yifan’s heart was soaring when Junmyeon came crashing home one evening, babbling about he had been accepted by the department, and was officially one of the select few who would have their work on display for a senior-only exhibition. 

It left him scrambling to complete another round of projects, but the stress would pay off in the end. 

Yifan knew he shouldn’t have been surprised that Junmyeon had selected him as his model for the project line, but he was anyway. After all, it was a _huge_ deal. That, and the fact that not only did Junmyeon have to sew all the clothes, but he had to run a miniature photography series on it too, to show the dynamics of the outfits. 

Junmyeon seemed to be enjoying it though, all smiles when he dressed Yifan up, and forcing him into various positions to snap some photos of him on his old digital camera. Yifan played along, knowing it was for Junmyeon’s project, and if Junmyeon thought him modeling was for the best, then who was he to argue about it? 

At the end of the day, Junmyeon seemed to have made a good choice. Junmyeon hadn’t taken but one class on photography, but his shots were quite good. The lighting and balance were excellent and Yifan was a little dumbstruck as he admired the sets of photographs attached to the wall of the exhibition room, accompanied by Junmyeon’s sewn garments strung snugly over the shapes of dress forms. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Yifan murmured, wrapping Junmyeon up in a one-armed hug as the two of them stood in the exhibition room. Junmyeon glowed with pride at those words, leaning over and into Yifan’s touch, uncaring that the world could see. 

After all, everyone had found out Yifan was not a single man ages ago. The world, however, was definitely surprised to see his photographs plastered on the walls, having to take second glances, murmuring to one another _doesn’t this guy look familiar to you, kind of like that guy Kris who used to work here?_

Yifan had never been expecting for anyone to say those words to his face though. He had been standing with Junmyeon in one corner of the room, talking quietly with one another as they admired some of the work belonging to Junmyeon’s classmates. Someone had tapped him on the shoulder, and Yifan, puzzled, swiveled on his heel to see who it was. 

A man, staring at him with perplexed eyes. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, “and I know this is a bit of a weird question, but you look _really_ familiar. Did you happen to go to school here?” 

Yifan blinked, momentarily baffled before at last nodding once. “Ages ago, but yes, I did.” 

“You look just like this kid I used to know. He lived in the dorm right by the basketball court,” the man said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. Yifan took a long moment to stare at him. Why did so many of these details ring true to him? How did this man know so much about him? And then, suddenly, it clicked, the man’s facial features at last making sense to Yifan’s brain. “Sorry, I’m probably not making a lot of sense here—” 

_“Zhoumi?”_ Yifan suddenly interrupted, watching the man’s eyes go wide. 

“Oh—Oh my _god,_ Kris, it is you!” The man gushed, his face lighting up happily as he suddenly reached out and squished Yifan’s cheeks in his palms. “You look so different now, but you still have the same baby face! This is _crazy_ ; how long has it been since I’ve seen you?” 

Thrown for a loop, wondering if he had somehow set foot into an alternate dimension, Yifan merely blinked half a dozen times, his voice muffled due to his face being squished. “Years? I… I don’t understand, how the hell did you find me here?” 

“I was in town visiting! My cousin works here and I stopped by campus to say hello, and whatnot, and saw there was this exhibition open for the week. I thought it’d be interesting so I dropped in on my way out,” Zhoumi explained, at last sparing Yifan, and let go of his face. “I saw the photographs on the wall. It said ‘Wu Yifan’ on the credit line for the model, and I _knew_ that name sounded so familiar to me, but I didn’t know if it was the same person or not. Talk about a small world, huh?” 

Zhoumi then seemed to finally notice Junmyeon. He quickly shoved a hand in Junmyeon’s direction, which the boy hesitantly accepted, clearly mind-boggled too. 

“My apologies. I’m Zhoumi! Kris and I went to school together,” he explained, his smile just as bright as Yifan remembered it. 

“Junmyeon. I’m, uh,” Junmyeon started, stuttering a little in shyness as he shook the stranger’s hand, “I go to school here and I’m Yifan’s boyfriend.” 

“Oh, well, that’s pretty awesome! I hope you like it here; it’s a pretty nice place, once you maneuver around all the typical drama and other crap,” Zhoumi said with a sigh as he released Junmyeon’s hand, turning his attention back onto Yifan. “So how did you two meet each other?” 

Yifan’s face reddened immediately, and Junmyeon was internally thankful that the question had been directed to Yifan, and not him. Even though he was just awkwardly standing around as Yifan struggled to explain himself, Junmyeon didn’t mind it. Yifan didn’t have much to any friends, but this man seemed to be someone Yifan had clicked with extremely well back in the day. Yifan wasn’t closed in on himself as much as he typically was when he tried to socialize, and it made Junmyeon’s stomach feel a bit warmer, overhearing Zhoumi mention they should grab dinner together. 

Maybe, just maybe, Yifan would finally be able to kindle some friendships of his own. 

* * *

After Junmyeon’s senior showing, the semester began to draw to a close. It was almost unreal to Yifan, that Junmyeon was already graduating from college. His cap and gown were black and it brought out the beauty of his face, matching so well with his pale skin and big dark eyes. Matched with those pink lips and white teeth, Junmyeon looked absolutely stunning. 

Yifan would never dare admit it out loud, but he did shed a few tears as he sat in his seat, snapping at least a hundred photos of Junmyeon as he walked across the stage. 

After clambering down the steps, armed with his diploma – just barely managing not to go tumbling down them, as he was still just as clumsy as he was the first day Yifan met him – Junmyeon spotted Yifan in the seating area, and tossed him an energetic, excited wave. 

Yifan grinned back at him, wiping his eyes with the hem of his sleeve. 

After the ceremony began to end, and everyone was dismissed, Junmyeon came charging past the rows of chairs. Yifan greeted him halfway, laughing when Junmyeon came barreling into him, arms immediately wrapping tightly around Yifan’s neck as he wrangled him up in a big bear hug. 

“God, you look _wonderful,_ ” Yifan murmured, unable to help but smile as a film of tears glossed across his eyes. He leaned back and steadied Junmyeon by the shoulders, admiring the way his cheeks glowed pink with happiness. “I’m so proud of you, Junmyeon.” 

“It was hard,” Junmyeon said, waving his diploma under Yifan’s nose, “but it’s done! I’m finally done!” 

“You are,” Yifan agreed, smile beginning to cross his lips. “No more waking up for classes, huh? Now you have to start waking up early for work.” 

“I can’t believe I’m now old like you,” Junmyeon said bluntly, laughing when Yifan merely frowned and furrowed his eyebrows in displease. “I’m kidding, don’t be such a sourpuss. I know you still have plenty of life in those bones.” 

Yifan just clicked his tongue, grinning anyway. “You’re still the same cheeky brat I’ve always known.” 

“A new chapter of my life, but I’m still me,” Junmyeon agreed, his voice a borderline sing-song tone as he gave Yifan another hug. “I’m so excited to start it, Yifan.” 

Yifan hummed, letting Junmyeon embrace him. “That reminds me. Speaking of new beginnings, I have a graduation present for you.” 

Junmyeon blinked, confused, as Yifan suddenly began to pull away from his hug. Yifan, however, didn’t let go of his hands, continuing to hold them as he took two steps backward. Junmyeon didn’t know what was about to happen, but when Yifan suddenly began to sink to the floor, one knee pressed against the tile, Junmyeon’s heart stopped beating. 

“Kim Junmyeon,” Yifan started, and Junmyeon’s vision was swimming. His throat was closing up and his eyes were filled with tears and _when_ had Yifan pulled that black box out of his pocket? Yifan’s smile was soft and warm and all for him as Yifan lifted the lid of the box. “Will you marry me?” 

Junmyeon couldn’t get his voice to work. He had broken down into tears, completely bawling his eyes out as he merely nodded repeatedly instead. There was applause muffled in his eardrums and he couldn’t stop hiccupping and crying as Yifan grinned, working on sliding the most beautiful band Junmyeon had ever seen onto his finger, before heaving himself to his feet. 

Yifan didn’t even attempt to kiss him, as Junmyeon was such a sniveling, sobbing mess he could barely even breathe. Instead, Yifan merely chuckled softly under his breath, assisting Junmyeon in wiping the tears from his face, before enveloping him in a hug. Junmyeon sniffed and dug his fingernails into the back of Yifan’s coat, feeling Yifan’s hands rubbing circles on his spine and whispering _I love you_ into his ear. 

It was a new beginning he welcomed whole-heartedly, because he already knew, so long as he was Yifan, there would never be a doubt in the world that he would be happy. 

Junmyeon’s smile was wobbly and he buried his face into Yifan’s shoulder, allowing himself to sink into the arms of the man who felt like home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And that's finally the end! It's been a long and bumpy road, but this fanfiction is at last finished. Thank you so much to everyone who has stayed with me on this journey and has read from start to finish. I truly appreciate all of you; your subs, upvotes, and comments mean the world to me. I will continue to write more Krisho in the future. Keep your eyes open for more stuff from me later on down the road! But for now, I am taking a rest after finishing up this monster ;-) Once again, a huge thank you to all of you, and I hope to see you guys again in the future. ♡ vicaniyun


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